Marcus: the Young Centurion Part 35

"You don't? Well, you're a queer sort of a boy, then," growled the old soldier. "I never met a boy before who said that he didn't like fighting."

"I did not say so," cried Marcus, sharply. "I was talking about our position here."

"Oh, I see!" growled Serge. "What about it? Strong enough for anything."

"Perhaps so, but here we are shut in amongst all these rocks, with no room for the hors.e.m.e.n or the chariots to be of any use. How could we gallop along here, or how could the cavalry attack?"

Serge took off his great helmet, wiped his brow with the back of his hand, and stared hard at his young companion for some moments, till the boy noticed the heavy, fierce look, and coloured.

"Why do you look at me like that?" he asked.

"Cause you make me, boy?"

"How? What do you mean?"

"Who taught you to talk like that, boy? Anyone would think you were a young general."

"Nonsense, Serge!" cried Marcus, with the tint upon his face growing deeper. "I spoke like that because you taught me and made me understand about the uses and movements of horse and foot. I'm sorry I was not right, but you need not laugh at me."

"What, boy?" cried the old soldier, warmly. "Laugh at you! Why, if I grinned it was because I was pleased and proud to see what a clever fellow you are growing up to be. Why, a well-trained old soldier could not have spoken better. You're as right as right, and it is unfortunate that our chief should be surrounded here in a place where he can't use the best part of his troops. But there, we won't argue about it.

'Tarn't a common soldier's duty to talk over what his general does.

What he, a fighting man, has to do is to fight and do in all things what he is told. Do you see?"

"Yes, Serge, I see, but--"

Marcus ended by making a sign intended to mean, Hold your tongue.

But Serge did not interpret it rightly.

"Yes, I see what you mean, and it's of no use to say 'but' to me. Our chief is a thoroughly good commander of men, and if he has got us into this hole of a place, where we are all shut up tightly without a chance to get out, why it's--"

Serge stopped short, to draw himself up tightly, for all at once he understood the true meaning of Marcus' sign, having suddenly become aware of the fact that their captain had in going from post to post stopped close to his elbow, and had heard nearly every word that had been spoken, while it was evident that he was thinking of something else at the same time, for he finished the old soldier's sentence for him in the way he interpreted it.

"Why, it is his duty to get us out of it, eh, my man? That is what you were going to say, is it not?"

"Well, something like it, captain," faltered the veteran; "but I didn't mean no harm."

"Of course you did not, but you were teaching this boy to criticise his superiors. Well, my man, you as an old soldier can see that we are in a very dangerous position."

"Yes, captain."

"And that if I try to cut my way out with the force I have at my command I may succeed."

"You will succeed, captain."

"Well, yes, I believe I should," said the captain, quickly; "but it would only be with the loss of a great number of men that could not be spared, and my division would afterwards be of little value to the main force."

"Yes, captain; that's right," growled Serge.

"Spoken like a good old fighting man," said the chief. "Now, then, speaking with your experience, what is best for me to do?"

"Set the men to build up rough walls with the stones, twice as strong as you have already."

"Good! Go on," cried the chief, while Marcus stood listening with his lips apart, and quivering with excitement the while.

"Then sit fast and wait."

"Without supplies?"

"Plenty of water from the spring yonder," growled Serge.

"Food?" said the chief, sharply.

"Foraging parties," continued Serge.

"Not to be depended upon in this high desert, man."

"Capture the enemy's provisions," said Serge.

"Doubtful, my man," cried the captain. "Can you propose nothing else?"

"Send off messenger at once on to the generals in front, telling how you are fixed, and asking for help at once."

"Hah!" cried the captain. "That is what I was waiting for you to say.

Now for the messenger I must send to Julius and Cracis."

"Someone who knows the country."

"There is no one," said the captain, sharply. "Whoever goes must find his way by the traces left by the generals."

"Yes, that's right, captain," said Serge.

"Well, man, whom am I to send?"

"Me!" cried Marcus, excitedly. "I'll find my father and take your message."

"You shall, boy," said the captain, catching Marcus by the arm. "It is what I planned, for I am going to send to Cracis, who will be directing the forces and the arrangements of the campaign, while Caius Julius leads the men. You, boy, have one of the best chariots and the swiftest horses in the force. There is no need for me to write if you tell your father that you come from me. Tell him everything you know, and that I am going to hold out to the last, even if I have to butcher the horses that the men may live. Tell him I am in a perilous strait, and that help must come to save me and give the enemy a lesson that they will not forget."

"Yes--yes," cried Marcus; "and I start at once?"

"Not yet, only be quite ready to dash off yonder by the lower track which you can see leading downward through those hills. I say dash off, but only if the enemy make for you. If you are not followed hasten slowly for your horses' sake. Remember that he who goes softly goes far, and I want sureness more than speed."

"But he can't get out yonder, captain," growled Serge, fiercely. "You are going to kill the boy."

"Well," said the captain, with a peculiar smile, "could I honour the son of great Cracis more than by letting him die for the sake of his country?"

"That's all very grand in sound, captain," cried Serge, grasping Marcus'

other arm, "but he's my boy as much as his father's, and I won't stand by and see him go alone to sudden death."