troop across the road—the front row lying down,
the second kneeling, the third standing—all
ready to greet the enemy with a deadly fire as
soon as they should come in sight. In the
mean while, Saxon had slung his rifle over his
shoulders and begun climbing the face of the
cliff. Where there was footing for a goat there
was always footing for him; and almost before
Beni knew what had become of him, he was
posted behind an overhanging bush some twenty
feet above. About a dozen others immediately
followed his example, till every shrub and
projecting angle of rock concealed a rifle.

The Garibaldians had but just completed their
preparations, when the white cross-belts of the
Neapolitans appeared at the turn of the road,
some sixty yards ahead.

Evidently unprepared to find their passage
resisted, they recoiled at sight of the Garibaldians,
who instantly poured in their first volley.
They then fired a few shots and fell back out of
sight, as if hesitating whether to advance or
retreat. The nature of the ground was such that
neither party could see the extent of the other's
strength; and Beni had been careful to turn
this circumstance to the best advantage. In
the meanwhile his men had re-loaded, and were
waiting in the same order as before.

They had not to wait long. In another
second there arose a shout of "Viva il Rè!"
and the royalists, cheered on by their officers,
came back with fixed bayonets, at the pas de
charge—a narrow, compact, resolute torrent,
which looked as if it must carry all before it.

Again the Tuscans delivered their deliberate
and deadly fire—again, again, and again; and
at each discharge the foremost Neapolitans
went down like grass before the scythe. There
seemed to be a charmed line drawn across the
road, beyond which they could not pass. As
fast as they reached it, they fell; as fast as they
fell those behind rushed up, and were shot
down in their turn.

And all this time the tirailleurs on the cliffside
dropped their unerring bullets into the
advancing column, bringing down the hindmost men,
and picking off each officer as he came into sight.

Mowed down by an irresistible fire, little
guessing by what a mere handful of men they
were being held in check, and left almost without
an officer to command them, the Neapolitans
all at once desisted from the attack and
retreated as rapidly as they had charged, dragging
off some six or eight of their wounded, and
leaving a rampart of their dead piled up half
way between themselves and their opponents.

"Viva Garibaldi!" cried Saxon, swinging
himself lightly from bush to bush, and leaping
down into the road.

"Viva Garibaldi!" shouted Beni's troop,
eager to pursue, but held back by their young
leader, who knew that they would have no
chance if once they betrayed the insignificance
of their numbers. Throwing himself before
them, he forbade a man to stir. At the same
time the tramp of the enemy, broken, hurried
and disordered, died rapidly away, and the
Garibaldians, only two of whom were slightly
wounded, remained in undisputed possession of
their little Thermopylæ.

In high spirits, they presently resumed their
march; but they saw no more Neapolitans.
When the lane opened presently upon a broad
platform overlooking the town, they halted.
Above them rose the castle ramparts, apparently
deserted. Below them lay the streets and
squares of Melazzo, with the open country
beyond. A strange silence seemed suddenly to
have fallen upon the day. There was no echo of
musketry to be heard upon the air—no smoke-
wreath visible even in places where the combat
had been hottest half an hour before. Save a
distant shouting here and there, and an
occasional shell thrown from some part of the
fortifications far away to the westward side of the
castle, the tumult of battle seemed to have
passed magically away.

"What does it all mean?" said Saxon, breathlessly.

"Well," replied Beni, "I suppose it means
that the battle is over."

At that moment a detachment of Malenchini's
brigade made its appearance at the further side
of the platform, shouting, "Viva l'Italia!" and
planted the tricolor on the highest point of the
parapet overlooking the town.

The battle was indeed over; the long day's
fight, fought gallantly out, was crowned with
victory. The whole of the town, up to the very gates
of the castle, was in the hands of the liberators.

CHAPTER LXVI. SAXON PURSUES HIS SEARCH.

THE battle over, orders were issued for the
construction of barricades in all the approaches
to the castle. Weary as they were after their
long day's fighting, the Garibaldians then
stacked their muskets and went to work with a
will. Pavements were hastily torn up, carts
dragged from the sheds in which their owners
had left them, and doors taken from their
hinges. Before sundown, a chain of extempore
defences was thrown up at every point of danger,
and the royalists were effectually imprisoned in
their own stronghold.

Then, guarded only by a few sentinels posted
upon the barricades, the army dispersed itself
about the streets and piazzas, and lay down to rest
by hundreds in the churches, the deserted houses,
and even the open doorways along the streets.

In the mean while, Saxon went about from
barricade to barricade, seeking his friend and
questioning every one he met, but seeking
and questioning in vain. One Garibaldian
remembered to have seen him with the Pavia
company during a sharp skirmish up in some
gardens near the castle. Another thought he
had observed him down on the Marina. A third
was certain that he had been killed by the
bursting of a shell; while a fourth no less
positively asserted that he was with Peard's
company in the windmill above the castle.
Confused by these contradictory statements, Saxon
wandered hither and thither till the twilight
came on; and then, utterly exhausted, stretched