The captain folded the sheet of paper, and said sharply, as he fixed his cold, gray eyes, before which all the soldiers trembled, on the boy:—
“Drummer!”
The drummer-boy put his hand to his cap.
“You have courage?” asked the captain.
The boy's eyes flashed.
“Yes, captain,” he replied.
“Look down there,” said the captain, pushing him to the window; “on the plain, near the houses of Villafranca, where there is a gleam of bayonets. There stand our troops, motionless. You are to take this message, tie yourself to the rope, descend from the window, get down that slope in an instant, make your way across the fields, reach our men, and give the note to the first officer you see. Throw off your belt and knapsack.”
The drummer took off his belt and knapsack and thrust the note into his breast-pocket; the sergeant flung the rope out of the window, and held one end of it clutched fast in his hands; the captain helped the lad to clamber out of the small window, with his back turned to the field.
“Now look out!” he said; “the salvation of this detachment lies in your courage and in your legs.”
“Trust to me, Signor Captain,” replied the drummer-boy, as he let himself down.
“Bend over on the slope,” said the captain, grasping the rope, with the sergeant. “ Never fear.”
“God aid you!”
In a few moments the drummer-boy was on the
