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"Hey, comrade," said he, grinning, "one sees that the Jew's stair was easier going for thee than Ortone." And he prodded her with his staff. This was not friendly. Ippolita did her best to humour him. "I go up as well as I can, Castracane," she said. "But do you go first, if you will." "Nay, nay," he replied, with a chuckle; "I make very good practice in the rear."
It was a pity, certainly, about the pig-eyed boy, who snorted whenever the exploit was mentioned but "Never mind him," thought Silvestro; "I have all the others." They passed through Abano; Monte Ortone was ahead, a spur of the great body of the hills. "There's the hermit's candle," said Petruccio. A twinkling light showed deep in the trees.
It was four by the time they were off, seven before they were at Abano, eight when they reached the foot of Monte Ortone and faced the deep chestnut woods in which that precipice dips his flanks.
All the unfortunate particulars wrung out of Silvestro on his first night of Monte Ortone the stab under the ribs, the Jew's beard, his black blood, etc., etc. were now screwed out of Andrea and went to prove his story. "By the twenty-four ears of the Twelve Apostles," swore the Corporal, "we've got him at last, Messere." The Sub-Prefect felt that he must act upon this news.
By a brambly path they climbed Monte Ortone Petruccio first, the others after him, the newcomer as best might be, then musically the goats. That round-faced, blinking boy, whom they called Castracane, was behind Silvestro now, much diverted by her panting efforts to go up without panting what he could rise on with closed mouth and scarcely any sharper whistling at the nose.
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