steadily loading and aiming — on the other,
Dunn's men running tnmultuously to and fro,
keeping up a rapid but irregular fire.

No sooner, however, had the new comers
emerged upon the scene, than a mounted officer
came galloping towards them through the thick
of the fire.

"Send round a detachment to the Via
Lombard," he said, hurriedly. " They have thrown
up a barricade there, which must be taken!"

The mention of a barricade was enough for
Saxon and Castletowers. Leaving the
combatants in the market-place to fight the fight
out for themselves, they started with the detachment,
and made their way round by a labyrinth
of deserted by-streets at the back of the piazza.

A shot was presently fired down upon them
from a neighbouring roof — they advanced at a
run — turned the angle of the next street — were
greeted with three simultaneous volleys from
right, left, and centre, and found themselves in
the teeth of the barricade. It was a mere pile
of carts, paving-stones, and miscellaneous
rubbish, about eight feet in height; but, being
manned with trained riflemen, and protected by
the houses on each side, every window of which
bristled with gun-barrels, it proved more
formidable than it looked.

The detachment, which consisted mainly of
Palermitan recruits, fell back in disorder,
returning only a confused and feeble fire, and
leaving some four or five of their number on
the ground.

"Avanti!" cried the officer in command.

But not a man stirred.

At that instant the Neapolitans poured in
another destructive volley, whereupon the front
ranks fairly turned, and tried to escape to the
rear.

"Poltroni!" shouted their captain, striking
right and left with the flat of his sword, and
running along the lines like a madman.

At the same moment Castletowers knocked
down one defaulter with the butt-end of his
rifle, while Saxon seized another by the collar,
dragged him back to the front, drew his revolver
from his belt with one hand, and with the other
carried the man bodily up against the barricade.

It was a simple act of strength and daring,
but it turned the tide as nothing else could
have done. Impulsive as savages, and
transported in a moment from one extreme of feeling
to another, the Sicilians burst into a storm of
vivas, and flung themselves at the barricade like
tigers.

The Neapolitans might pour in their deadly
fire now from house-top and window, might
intrench themselves behind a hedge of bayonets,
might thrust the dead back upon the living,
and defend every inch of their position as
desperately as they pleased, but nothing could
daunt the courage of their assailants. The men
who were running away but a moment before,
were now rushing recklessly upon death. Shot
down by scores, they yet pressed on, clambering
over the bodies of their fallen comrades,
shouting " Viva Garibaldi!" under the muzzles
of the Neapolitan rifles, and seizing the very
bayonets that were pointed against them.

The struggle was short and bloody. It had
lasted scarcely three minutes when the
Palermitans poured over in one irresistible wave,
and the Neapolitans fled precipitately into the
piazza beyond.

The victors at once planted a tricolor on the
summit of the barricade, manned it with some
thirty of their own best riflemen, and proceeded
to dislodge such of the enemy as yet retained
possession of the houses on either side.

In the mean while, the Garibaldian officer ran
up to Saxon with open arms, and thanked him
enthusiastically.

"Gallant Inglese!" he said, "but for you,
our flag would not be flying here at this
moment."

To whom Saxon, pale as death and pointing
down to the pile of fallen men at the foot of the
barricade, replied:

"Signor capitano, I miss my friend. For
God's sake grant me the assistance of a couple
of your soldiers to search for his body!"

It was a ghastly task.

The Neapolitans had escaped as soon as they
found their position untenable; but the loss of
the attacking party was very great. Most of
the men immediately under the barricade had
been cruelly bayoneted. The dead wore a
terrible expression of agony on their colourless
faces; but many yet breathed, and those who
were conscious pleaded piteously to be put out
of their sufferings. One by one, the dead were
flung aside, and the wounded carried down to
the shade of the houses. One by one, Saxon
Trefalden looked into each man's face, helping
tenderly to carry the wounded, and reverently
to dispose the limbs of the dead, and watching
every moment for the finding of his friend.

At length the last poor corpse was lifted—
the search completed — the frightful bead-roll
told over. Thirty-two were dead, five dying,
eleven wounded; but amongst all these, the
Earl of Castletowers had no place. Saxon could
scarcely believe it. Again and again he went
the round of dead and dying; and at last, with
bloodstained hands and clothes, and anxious
heart, sat down at the foot of the barricade,
and asked himself what he should do next.

NEW WORK BY MR. DICKENS,
ln Monthly Parts, uniform with the Original Editions of
"Pickwick," "Copperfleld,"&c.
Now publishing, PART XVIII., price 1s., of
OUR MUTUAL FRIEND.
BY CHARLES DICKENS.
IN TWENTY MONTHLY PARTS.
With Illustrations by MARCUS STONE.
London: CHAPMAN and HALL, 193, Piccadilly.