It was all merely a bit
of American "bluff," and it succeeded because the brigand was a coward,
and dared not emulate his daughter's courage.
"No, no, Tato!" cried the Duke, brokenly, as he wrung his hands in
anguish. "There is more money to be had, but I have only one child. They
shall not harm a hair of your head, my pretty one!"
Patsy wanted to yell "bravo!" but wisely refrained. Her eyes were full
of tears, though, and her resolution at ebb tide.
Fortunately the men had made haste. They returned with surprising
promptness, pushing the amazed prisoners before them.
Uncle John, as he emerged from the tunnel, looked around upon the tragic
scene and gasped:
"Well, I declare!"
Count Ferralti was more composed, if equally surprised. He lifted his
hat politely to Beth and Patsy, and smiled with great satisfaction.
"You are free," said Il Duca, harshly. "Go!"
They lost no time in getting the brigands between themselves and the
mouth of the tunnel, and then Kenneth gently drew Tato to a place beside
him and assisted her to clamber down the path.
"Good bye, little one," he said, pleasantly; "you're what we call a
'brick' in our country. I like you, and I'm proud of you."
Tato did not reply. With streaming eyes she was examining her father's
shattered hand, and sobbing at sight of the blood that dripped upon the
rocks at his feet.
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