The other soldiers explained, and Lucia knew they were discussing her
when they pointed to the shed. The messenger evidently suggested
milking the goat, for after a little laughing and jesting, one of the
men took a pail and approached Garibaldi.

Now, no one had ever milked Garibaldi in all her life but Lucia, and
from the disastrous attempts on the part of the soldiers it was evident
that no one was ever going to, if that very particular animal could
prevent it, and she seemed quite able to, to judge from the results.

Lucia watching through the cracks in the shed laughed softly to
herself. She was not surprised when, a few minutes later, one of the
men opened the door and told her to come out.

He could not speak Italian and he resorted to the sign language. Lucia
nodded in understanding. She might have pretended blank stupidity, but
she wanted some milk herself, and this was a good way to get it.
Besides, she decided that she would do something to make it impossible
for them to lock her up again on her return.

Garibaldi stood quite still as she milked her, and submitted meekly to
her affectionate pats.

The messenger drank greedily from the pail, and when he had finished
there seemed to be nothing else for Lucia to do but return to the shed.
She walked back to the door as slowly as possible, and looked hard at
the lock. It was just an ordinary padlock and it hung open on the
rusty catch. She looked quickly at the men behind her. They were busy
talking, and did not appear to be paying any attention to her.