The last genuine bandit of the Sila was Gaetano Ricca. On account of
some trivial misunderstanding with the authorities, this man was
compelled in the early eighties to take to the woods, where he lived a
wild life _(alla campagna; alla macchia)_ for some three years. A price
was set on his head, but his daring and knowledge of the country
intimidated every one. I should be sorry to believe in the number of
carbineers he is supposed to have killed during that period; no doubt
the truth came out during his subsequent trial. On one occasion he was
surrounded, and while the officer in command of his pursuers, who had
taken refuge behind a tree, ordered him to yield, Ricca waited patiently
till the point of his enemy's foot became visible, when he pierced his
ankle-bone with his last bullet and escaped. He afterwards surrendered
and was imprisoned for twenty years or so; then returned to the Sila,
where up to a short time ago he was enjoying a green old age in his home
at Parenti--Parenti, already celebrated in the annals of brigandage by
the exploit of the perfidious Francatripa (Giacomo Pisani), who, under
pretence of hospitality, enticed a French company into his clutches and
murdered its three officers and all the men, save seven. The memoirs of
such men might be as interesting as those of the Sardinian Giovanni Tolu
which have been printed. I would certainly have paid my respects to
Ricca had I been aware of his existence when, some years back, I passed
through Parenti on my way--a long day's march!--from Rogliano to San
Giovanni. He has died in the interval.

But the case of Ricca is a sporadic one, such as may crop up anywhere
and at any time. It is like that of Musolino--the case of an isolated
outlaw, who finds the perplexed geographical configuration of the
country convenient for offensive and defensive purposes. Calabrian
brigandage, as a whole, has always worn a political character.