. .
Here, on the spot, one can understand how an outlaw like Musolino was
enabled to defy justice, helped, as he was, by the fact that the vast
majority of the inhabitants were favourable to him, and that the officer
in charge of his pursuers was paid a fixed sum for every day he spent in
the chase and presumably found it convenient not to discover his
whereabouts. [Footnote: See next chapter.]
We rested awhile, during these interminable meanderings, under the
shadow of a group of pines.
"Do you see that square patch yonder?" said my man. "It is a cornfield.
There Musolino shot one of his enemies, whom he suspected of giving
information to the police. It was well done."
"How many did he shoot, altogether?"
"Only eighteen. And three of them recovered, more or less; enough to
limp about, at all events. Ah, if you could have seen him, sir! He was
young, with curly fair hair, and a face like a rose. God alone can tell
how many poor people he helped in their distress. And any young girl he
met in the mountains he would help with her load and accompany as far as
her home, right into her father's house, which none of us would have
risked, however much we might have liked it.
