"And the lambkins, and the lambkins,"
Rico now stood alone in the darkness. He had not the slightest idea where he was, nor of what he ought to do next. He presently remembered that he had not even thanked the kind coachman who had allowed him to come all this way on the coach, and he felt that he must do that at once.
The coachman and his horses were both invisible, and nothing but darkness was about the boy. At last he a lantern hanging up somewhere in the distance, and went towards the light. It was hanging on the stable-door, and the horses were just then brought in. Near the door stood the man with the thick stick. He seemed to be waiting for the driver; so Rico took his stand near by, and waited too.
Probably the sheep- did not recognize the little fiddler in the darkness; but suddenly he exclaimed, quite surprised, "What! is that you, little one? Where are you going to pass the night?"
"I do not know where," replied the boy.
"Well, I never heard of such a thing; at eleven o'clock at night, and a little of a boy like you in a strange place"—
The sheep-dealer seemed to speak in a great hurry, for he could scarcely breathe in his excitement; neither did he finish his sentence, for the driver entered the stable at that moment, and Rico went up to him at once, saying, "I want to thank you for bringing me along with you."
"You have come just in the nick of time. I had almost forgotten you while I was looking after my horses, and I wanted to hand you over to an acquaintance. I was thinking of asking you, good friend," he continued, turning towards the dealer, "if you would not take this little chap along with you, as you are going to Bergamo. He wants to go somewhere on the Lake of Garda. He is one of those who belong here or there. You understand, don't you?"
The sheep-dealer thought of the stories he had heard of lost or stolen children. He looked with pity at Rico, in the dim light of the lantern, and said, "He does look as if he were not in exactly the clothes that belong to him. He would become a richer dress, I am sure. I will take him with me."
When he had talked over the sheep-trade a little with the coachman they parted, and the dealer made a sign to Rico that he should follow him.
After a short walk, the man entered an inn, where he seated himself in a corner of the eating-room with the boy beside him.
"Now let us look at your possessions," he said to Rico, "so that we can see what they will allow you to have. Where are you going on the lake?"
"To Peschiera, on the Lake of Garda."
This was Rico's never-failing answer. He drew out his money from his pocket,—a nice little pile of small coins it was, and the big silver bit on the top of all.
"Have you only that one bit of silver?" asked the dealer.
"Yes; only that one. You gave me that," replied the boy.
It pleased the man to think that he was the only one who had given silver; and he was also pleased that the lad was aware of the fact. He felt as if he wanted to give him something more. Just at this moment his supper was placed before him, and the kindly man nodded to his little companion, saying, "I will pay for this, and for your night's also; so you need not touch your little fortune until to-morrow."
Rico was so tired out with all the and singing, and the long journey, that he could scarcely eat; and as soon as he reached the big bedroom where he was to pass the night with his protector, he was asleep the moment he had put his head on the pillow.
Early the following morning, Rico was
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