after some delay—owing to tony’s inability to balance the chafing-dish on cristoforo colombo’s back—they filed from the gateway, an imposing cavalcade. the ladies were on foot, loftily oblivious to the fact that three empty saddles awaited their pleasure. constance, a gesticulating officer at either hand, was vivaciously talking italian, while tony, trudging behind, listened with a somber light in his eye. she now and then cast a casual glance over her shoulder, and as she caught sight of his gloomy face the animation of her italian redoubled. the situation held for her mischief-loving soul undreamed-of possibilities; and though she ostensibly occupied herself with the officers, she by no means neglected the donkey-man.
during the first few miles of the journey he earned his four francs. twice he reshifted the pack because constance thought it insecure (it was a disgracefully unprofessional pack; most guides would have blushed at the making of it); once he retraced their path some two hundred yards in search of a veil she thought she had dropped—it turned out that she had had it in her pocket all of the time. he chased fidilini over half the mountainside while the others were resting, and he carried the chafing-dish for a couple of miles because it refused to adjust itself nicely to the pack. the morning ended by his being left behind with a balking donkey, while the others completed the last ascent that led to their halting-place for lunch.
it was a small plateau shaded by oak trees with a broad view below them, and a mountain stream foaming down from the rocks above. it was owing to beppo’s knowledge of the mountain paths rather than tony’s which had guided them to this agreeable spot; though no one in the party except constance appeared to have noted the fact. tony arrived some ten minutes after the others, hot but victorious, driving cristoforo colombo before him. constance welcomed his return with an off-hand nod and set him about preparing lunch. he and beppo served it and repacked the hampers, entirely ignored by the others of the party. poor tony was beginning to realize that a donkey-man lives on a desert island in so far as any companionship goes. but his moment was coming. as they were about to start on, constance spied high above their heads where the stream burst from the rocks, a clump of starry white blossoms.
“edelweiss!” she cried. “oh, i must have it—it’s the first i ever saw growing; i hadn’t supposed we were high enough.” she glanced at the officers.
the ascent was not dangerous, but it was undeniably muddy, and they both wore white; with very good cause they hesitated. and while they hesitated, the opportunity was lost. tony sprang forward, scrambled up the precipice hand over hand, swung out across the stream by the aid of an overhanging branch and secured the flowers. it was very gracefully and easily done, and a burst of applause greeted his descent. he divided his flowers into two equal parts, and sweeping off his hat, presented them with a bow, not to constance, but to the officers, who somewhat sulkily passed them on. she received them with a smile; for an instant her eyes met tony’s, and he fell back, rewarded.
the captain and lieutenant for the first time regarded the donkey-man, and they regarded him narrowly, red sash, earrings, stiletto and all. constance caught the look and laughed.
“isn’t he picturesque?” she inquired in italian. “the head-waiter at the hotel du lac found him for me. he has been in the united states and speaks english, which is a great convenience.”
the two said nothing, but they looked at each other and shrugged.
the donkeys were requisitioned for the rest of the journey; while tony led miss hazel’s mount, he could watch constance ahead on fidilini, an officer marching at each side of her saddle. she appeared to divide her favors with nice discrimination; it was not her fault if the two were jealous of one another. tony could draw from that obvious fact what consolation there was in it.
the ruined fortress, their destination, was now exactly above their heads. the last ascent boldly skirted the shoulder of the mountain, and then doubled upward in a series of serpentine coils. below them the whole of lake garda was spread like a map. mr. wilder and the englishman, having paused at the edge of the declivity, were endeavoring to trace the boundary line of austria, and they called upon the officers for help. the two relinquished their post at constance’s side, while the donkeys kept on past them up the hill. the winding path was both stony and steep, and, from a donkey’s standpoint, thoroughly objectionable. fidilini was well in the lead, trotting sedately, when suddenly without the slightest warning, he chose to revolt. whether constance pulled the wrong rein, or whether, as she affirmed, it was merely his natural badness, in any case, he suddenly veered from the path and took a cross cut down the rocky slope below them. donkeys are fortunately sure-footed beasts; otherwise the two would have plunged together down the sheer face of the mountain. as it was it looked ghastly enough to the four men below; they shouted to constance to stick on, and commenced scrambling up the slope with absolutely no hope of reaching her.
it was tony’s chance a second time to show his agility—and this time to some purpose. he was a dozen yards behind and much lower down, which gave him a start. leaping forward, he dropped over the precipice, a fall of ten feet, to a narrow ledge below. running toward them at an angle, he succeeded in cutting off their flight. before the frightened donkey could swerve, tony had seized him—by the tail—and had braced himself against a boulder. it was not a dignified rescue, but at least it was effective; fidilini came to a halt. constance, not expecting the sudden jolt, toppled over sidewise, and tony, being equally unprepared to receive her, the two went down together rolling over and over on the grassy slope.
“my dear, are you hurt?”
mr. wilder, quite pale with anxiety, came scrambling to her side. constance sat up and laughed hysterically, while she examined a bleeding elbow.
“n—no, not dangerously—but i think perhaps tony is.”
tony however was at least able to run, as he was again on his feet and after the donkey. captain coroloni and her father helped constance to her feet while lieutenant di ferara recovered a side-comb and the white sun hat. they all climbed down together to the path below, none the worse for the averted tragedy. tony rejoined them somewhat short of breath, but leading a humbled fidilini. constance, beyond a brief glance, said nothing; but her father, to the poor man’s intense embarrassment, shook him warmly by the hand with the repeated assurance that his bravery should not go unrewarded.
they completed their journey on foot; tony following behind, quite conscious that, if he had played the part of hero, he had done it with a lamentable lack of grace.
