Lucia Rudini Part 9

She clenched her fists and tried to swallow the lump in her throat, but without success, the tears came in spite of her and in her disappointment she threw herself down on the bed and sobbed. Fear got the better of her, and in an agony of mind she imagined every possible harm to Beppi.

But she was not allowed to stay long in that state of mind, for suddenly the guns broke into a terrible roar. The air was black with smoke and the house trembled and rocked under her.

She jumped up and ran to the window. Great volumes of smoke arose to the east, and higher geysers of dirt and rock flew up into the air.

"The Austrians!" Lucia did not stop to think in her fear. She dashed out of the house and down the road in the opposite direction from the town. Without realizing the personal danger to herself, she ran as fast as she could. Fear and the noise of the exploding sh.e.l.ls sent her plunging ahead regardless of direction.

Instinctively she took the path to the right at the foot of the village and climbed up to the little plateau. She was directly under the fire of her own guns, but the noise from both sides was so great that she did not know it, and she forged ahead, shouting. In all the tumult she could not even hear her own voice, but to shout relieved her nerves of the terrible strain.

When she reached the plateau she climbed on up, choosing the spot where, earlier in the day, the Italian soldiers had come from, and slipping and sliding, but always goaded on by fear, and the knowledge that she must tell some one about the beggar, she kept on her way.

She did not know how long she ran, or when it was that she stumbled, but suddenly everything was black before her eyes, and the noise of the guns was blotted out by the awful ringing in her ears. Then came oblivion.

When she next realized anything, she was conscious of some one bending over her and holding a water bottle to her lips. She drank gratefully and opened her eyes. The Italian soldier was beside her, and another man was lying on the ground near her.

"Give me something to eat," she said, trying to sit up, "or I will go away again." Going away was the only way she knew of, to express the sensation of fainting.

The Italian took something out of his knapsack and gave it to her.

Lucia ate ravenously, and the queer feeling at the pit of her stomach disappeared.

"How did you escape?" he asked.

The question brought back a sudden wave of memory, and Lucia jumped up excitedly.

"By the river road--two Austrians and a beggar--they met by the foot-bridge, over there where the noise comes from; I saw them." She recalled the facts jerkily.

"Go on!" the Italian's eyes flashed.

"The beggar gave the Austrians a paper, and they left with it and climbed up into the mountains across the river. I could not follow without being seen, and when I tried to find the beggar he had disappeared. The river runs right under the wall."

"Oh, look!" She stopped abruptly and put her hand over her eyes.

A great cloud of fire followed a terrific report, and from the distance of the hill it looked as if the whole town of Cellino was in flames.

The Italian s.n.a.t.c.hed a field gla.s.s that lay on the ground beside the wounded man, and put it to his eyes. Then without a word he dashed off. Lucia followed him. A giant tree grew between two huge rocks a little further up the mountain, and the Italian climbed up it.

Lucia watched him, and for the first time she noticed that several wires were strung along and ended high up in its branches. She heard the Italian calling some directions, and knew that a telephone must be hidden somewhere in the tree. She could make nothing of the orders; they were mostly numbers, and she waited impatiently until he returned to her.

"Stay here," he said quickly, "and lie down flat--don't move. The Austrians are advancing on the other side of the river, and Cellino will fall if the bridge is not blown up."

"But who can get to it?" Lucia demanded.

"I can; it is mined. If I can reach it we may drive them back."

He did not wait to say more.

Lucia watched him impatiently as he stumbled and slid clumsily down the rough trail below her. The sh.e.l.ls were coming nearer and nearer, and the air was filled with brilliant fire.

She watched the man every second, afraid to lose track of him. At the base of the rock he fell. She caught her breath and shouted aloud when he picked himself up and stumbled on. He reached the road and was just starting across the little path that led to the river, when a sh.e.l.l exploded so near him that the smoke hid him completely from view.

CHAPTER IX

THE BRIDGE

It was several minutes before Lucia saw him again; he was lying flat, a little to one side of the road, and he was very still. She waited, hoping against hope to see him move, and fighting against the horrible thought that filled her mind.

"He is dead," she exclaimed, terrified, "and they are moving; and the bridge!"

Without another thought she got up and very carefully started down the descent, her mind concentrated on the bridge. She did not attempt to go to the road, but kept to the shelter of the rocks, and a little to one side of the fire. The sh.e.l.ls were bursting all around her, but she was above the range of the guns, and comparatively safe.

She hurried as fast as she could, but it was hard to keep the direction, in all the noise and blinding flames. She did not dare to look towards Cellino, or think what that hideous column of smoke might mean.

At last she reached the river, and the bridge was in sight a little distance ahead. It was an old stone bridge, and wide enough for men to walk four abreast. At that point the river was very wide and the bridge was made in three arches. It looked very substantial, and Lucia stopped, suddenly terrified by the thought that she did not have the slightest idea how or where to blow it up.

She looked about her as if for inspiration. She found it in the moving line of men just visible far above in the mountains.

The Austrians! They were advancing, and the sudden realization of it brought out all her courage and daring, and intensified the hatred in her heart.

"They shall not cross our bridge," she shouted defiantly, and raced ahead regardless of the rain of shot and sh.e.l.l.

But when she reached the bridge she stopped again, helpless and completely baffled. The wall rose above her high and impregnable. A little farther along, the window of the convent seemed to be ablaze with light. The church had been struck, and Lucia could feel the heat of the flames from where she stood.

The North Gate seemed miles away, and she turned to the convent. She knew there was a door that gave on to the river bank, and she ran forward. She found it and pushed frantically against it. It was locked, the only other opening being a window higher up.

Lucia looked at it in despair. It was her only chance. The gla.s.s had been smashed by the impact of the bursting sh.e.l.ls and lay in broken bits under her feet. She could just reach the ledge with her hands, and the stone felt warm. The wall was rough and uneven, and after a struggle she managed to find a foothold and pulled herself up. The jagged gla.s.s still in the cas.e.m.e.nt cut her hands, but she did not stop to think about it. Once inside she ran along the dark corridor and up the few steps that led to the first floor. The big iron doors were open, and she caught her first sight of the town.

The convent was just outside, and on the road that led south a great stream of people carrying every size of bundles, was hurrying along.

Lucia recognized some of them, but the faces she most longed to see were not there.

She turned away, for the sight seemed to drain all her courage, and she longed to run after them, but the memory of that moving ma.s.s of soldiers made her true to her trust, and she hurried through the convent, calling for aid.

At the farthest door she discovered several of the sisters hurrying about and trying to clear the big ward filled with wounded soldiers.

They had been brought in that morning, and some of them were very ill indeed. The sisters were carrying them out on improvised stretchers.

Those who were able to stand up staggered along as best they could by themselves. Lucia saw one boy leaning heavily against the door, and ran to him.

"Roderigo Vicello!" she exclaimed, when she looked up at him.

Roderigo swayed and would have fallen if she had not supported him.

"I can not go," he said weakly. "I am too tired, and I want to go. I have watched her out of sight, but I am too tired to follow."

Lucia looked at him intently. It seemed to her impossible that a man, and a soldier, could bother to think of a girl at such a time. She took his arm firmly and shook him.

"Do you know how to blow up a bridge that is mined?" she demanded excitedly.

"Yes, pull out the pin," Roderigo replied, "if it is a time fuse," he spoke slowly and painstakingly.