Buttons went out to the villa at once; but to his extreme disgust found that the Spaniards, had left on the preceding day for Bologna. He drove about the country for some distance, rested his horses, and took a long walk, after which he returned.
Their departure for Bologna on the following morning was a settled thing. The diligence started early. They had pity on the flesh of Figgs and the spirit of the Doctor. So they bade them good-bye on the evening before retiring.
A MEMORABLE DRIVE.--NIGHT.--THE BRIGANDS ONCE MORE.--GARIBALDI'S NAME.--THE FIRE.--THE IRON BAR.--THE MAN FROM THE GRANITE STATE AND HIS TWO BOYS.
"The great beauty of this pistol is a little improvement that I have not seen before."
"Here is the chamber with the six cavities loaded. Now, you see, when you wish, you touch this spring and out pops the butt."
"Very well. Here I have another chamber with six cartridges: It's loaded, the cartridges are covered with copper and have detonating powder at one end. As quick as lightning I put this on, and there you have the pistol ready to be fired again six times."
"The Doctor gave me all that he had, about sixty, I should think."
This conversation took place in the banquette of the diligence that conveyed Dick, Buttons, and the Senator from Florence to Bologna. A long part of the journey had been passed over. They were among the mountains.
"Do you expect to use that?" asked the Senator, carelessly.
"So do I," said Buttons. "I could not get a pistol; but I got this from an acquaintance."
And he drew from his pocket an enormous bowie-knife.
"Bowie-knives are no good," said the Senator. "Perhaps they may do if you want to assassinate; but for nothing else. You can't defend yourself. I never liked it. It's not American. It's not the direct result of our free institutions."
And he lifted up a crow-bar from the front of the coach. Brandishing it in the air as easily as an ordinary man would swing a walking-stick. He looked calmly at his astonished companions.
"You see," said he, "there are several reasons why this is the best sort of weapon for me. A short knife is no use. A sword is no good, for I don't know the sword exercise. A gun is worthless; I would fire it off once and then have to use it as a club. It would then be apt to break. That would be disagreeable--especially in the middle of a fight. A stick or club of any kind would be open to the same objection. What, then, is the weapon for me? Look at me. I am big, strong, and active. I have no skill. I am brute strength. So a club is my only weapon--a club that won't break. Say iron, then. There you have it."