■mi 



'lis nothing but aIittle<Jowny Owl" 



CHAPTER VI 



TT was near midnight ; the moon had laid the 

 ^ Colosseum with broad sheets of white on 

 dark as I stood in the ancient arena and pon- 

 dered — how to be rid of a small Italian, a self- 

 imposed guide, who was keeping up a chatter 

 in German, French, English and Italian, each 

 bad of its kind and all impartially mixed. 



Then up in the arches against the sky re- 

 sounded a strange, not altogether unfamiliar 

 sound — a screaming call that suggested the cry 

 of the whippoorwill. 



149 



