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Lucia Rudini - Somewhere in Italy by Martha Trent
page 82 of 149 (55%)

She ran to the door. Poor Garibaldi was still standing hitched to the
stretcher. Lucia went to her and led her back to the door of the
cottage. She looked half-fearfully, half-angrily at the town above her.

"He shall not die!" she said between her teeth, and went back into the
house.

The transfer from the bed to the stretcher was very difficult to
manage, for the poor soldier was beyond helping himself. But Lucia
succeeded without hurting him too much, and once more the strange trio
started out on their climb.

They were in no great danger, for only an occasional shell burst near
them. The fighting was going on below the east wall. Lucia and
Garibaldi toiled up the hill, each one using every bit of their
strength.

[Illustration: "Lucia and Garibaldi toiled up the hill, each one using
every bit of their strength."]

The soldier was limp and lifeless, his head rolled with every bump. He
looked like one dead, but Lucia refused even to consider such a
possibility. She urged Garibaldi on and tugged with determined
persistence.

They were just below the wall when Lucia stopped to rest. The little
goat was staggering from the exertion, and she was out of breath. She
looked at the gate, it was only a little way off, but it seemed miles,
and she wondered if she could go on.
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