The Call of the Blood

"Hi--yi--yi--yi!"

"Row back, signorino! They have done playing, and my father will be

angry."

He moved, took the oars, and sent the boat towards the island. The

physical exertion calmed him, restored him to himself.

"After all," he thought, "there is no harm in it."

And he laughed.

"Which has won, Maddalena?" he said, looking back at her over his

shoulder, for he was standing up and rowing with his face towards the

land.

"I hope it is my father, signorino. If he has got the money he will not

be angry; but if Gaspare has it--"

"Your father is a fox of the sea, and can cheat better than a boy. Don't

be frightened."

When they reached the land, Salvatore and Gaspare met them. Gaspare's

face was glum, but Salvatore's small eyes were sparkling.

"I have won it all--all!" he said. "Ecco!"

And he held out his hand with the notes.

"Salvatore is birbante!" said Gaspare, sullenly. "He did not win it

fairly. I saw him--"

"Never mind, Gaspare!" said Maurice.

He put his hand on the boy's shoulder.

"To-morrow I'll give you the same," he whispered.

"And now," he added, aloud, "let's go to bed. I've been rowing Maddalena

round the island and I'm tired. I shall sleep like a top."

As they went up the steep path he took Salvatore familiarly by the arm.

"You are too clever, Salvatore," he said. "You play too well for

Gaspare."

Salvatore chuckled and handled the five-lire notes voluptuously.

"Cci basu li manu!" he said. "Cci basu li manu!"