Marcus: the Young Centurion Part 45

"So's a soldier. Look here, boy; we are getting seasoned, and I'm proud to say that I am what a man's officer would call a veteran, and that's the finest t.i.tle there is in an army. Then, too, look at our lad here.

See what a splendid driver he's turned out, and how he can send that chariot in and out among the rocks so close as almost to shave them, and right in between pairs of them where you or I would think there wasn't room to pa.s.s. And then there's the ponies! They are a bit thin, certainly, but they are as fine as bronze, and can gallop farther and better than ever. Now then! Speak out honest! Did you ever before see such a splendid pair?"

"No, Serge, never."

"And yet you say that everything's wrong and hopeless and bad. Why, boy, if I didn't know it was all through your being young and anxious and eager to do your duty, I should be ashamed of you."

"But you are not, Serge?" cried the boy, excitedly.

"'Shamed of you? No, boy. I feel proud."

"There, Serge," cried Marcus, leaving the pony, to go and lay his hand upon the old soldier's shoulder, "I've done, and I will try and never complain any more. I do see now what a lot we have to be thankful for.

Now then; what's the next thing we ought to do?"

"Same as usual, my lad," said Serge, rising and sheathing his sword, which went back into its scabbard with a quick glide till the hilt was nearly reached, when it required a firm thrust to get it close into its place. "Well, to begin with, forage first. I often think it's a pity a man wasn't made like a horse. Look at those two ponies! How their coats s.h.i.+ne in the suns.h.i.+ne! They began eating their breakfast before it was light, for I was watching and wakeful, and I got thinking like this as I heard them busy at it, crop and blow, crop and blow, and after they had eaten all they wanted they had a drink of water, and there they are fit for the day, while we three have got to find out some place or another where we can buy, or frighten them into giving us some bread and milk. We always have been lucky enough so far, and I don't see why we shouldn't be again to-day."

"But which way shall we go, Serge? It's of no use to try to follow up the army as we did yesterday, and then have to turn back because the enemy are between us and it."

"No, boy; I think the best thing we can do is to leave that till we have done foraging, for we must have something to eat. Then we'll try if we can't creep round these tribes, or get in between them somehow. Perhaps we may have a bit of luck to give us a little help. Anyhow, we are not going to despair."

"No, Serge," cried Marcus, firmly; "anything but that."

"Hah!" cried Serge. "That's spoken like Cracis' son."

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE.

ON THE BRINK.

Evening was coming on on the following day, when, growing tired but in higher spirits, Marcus and Serge were cautiously following the traces well marked along the side of a forest which gave unmistakable evidence of the pa.s.sing of a large body of men.

There had been rain some hours before, which had left the earth softened and refreshed, ready, too, for yielding to the pressure of horses' hoofs and the clearly-indicated lines formed by chariot wheels. These formed a splendid guide for the adventurers, who added their own traces as they pressed eagerly on.

"They are our people, Marcus, boy, and they are not far ahead."

"Think so, Serge?"

"Sure of it, boy. It has rained since morning, and whoever pa.s.sed along here has made these marks since the rain."

"And it's certainly not a retreat, Serge, for there's no sign of fighting."

"Not a bit, my boy. It's our army on the march, and all those signs show that our men were in full fettle, ready for anything, and are pus.h.i.+ng forward into the middle of the enemy's country. See yon mountains?"

"Mountains!" said Marcus. "You might call them hills."

"Well, hills, then; and it strikes me that we shall find these tracks lead straight to one of those green nicely-rounded tops with a pleasant slope all round. Now, there's that one there," continued Serge, pointing to a hill standing by itself; "that's just the sort of place my old officer would have picked out for his next halting camp, lead his men right to the top, mark out their places, and have them all at work before sundown, busy as bees digging out a ditch and throwing up a wall of earth in front for our men to fight behind, in case they were attacked."

Serge had hardly ceased speaking as he walked with Marcus on one side of their horses, the driver on the other, to rest the brave little animals as much as possible, when, pa.s.sing round a clump of trees, following the bend of the track made by the marching army, they came more fully in view of the hills whose tops only they had seen before.

Nearest of all was the one to which Serge had drawn attention, and as this opened out more and more in the evening suns.h.i.+ne Marcus uttered an e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n and caught at his companion's arm.

"Ah!" cried Serge, starting, and he raised his hand to sign to their driver to stop, before catching at one of the ponies' reins. "What is it? Enemy?"

"I don't know," cried Marcus, excitedly. "Look!"

The old soldier shaded his eyes, and uttered a cry of joy.

"Enemy? No?" he cried. "It's just as I said. Look, boy! Our people!

Our army! Far off as it is, I know them by the standards, and the way they have gone to work. Look at them! Why they look no bigger than bees from here, and it is as I said. They are forming camp as if they meant to stop for days."

"Oh, don't, Serge," cried the boy, huskily. "Don't talk like this if you are not sure. It seems too good to believe, after all that we have gone through."

"Not it, boy!" cried Serge, excitedly. "Not a bit too good. Look at all the bad we have had. Everything has another side, and there it is for us."

"Are you sure?"

"As that I am here, boy. That's the Roman army, or part of it, for I can't be certain that Julius and Cracis are there. But if it's only a part it will do for us, for the general who commands can receive our message and go to yon poor fellows' help. Now, then, forward at once, for though that camp looks so near we have miles to travel before we can march up and be stopped by their sentries ready to challenge us in the good old Latin tongue. Why, boy, you said yesterday that all was bad and everything had failed. What do you say now?"

"Forward!" cried Marcus, "and at once!"

The ponies had done little work that day, for the advance had been made cautiously on account of the many bands of the enemy's warriors which swarmed throughout the country, and the empty chariot had formed the load; but now without further conversation Marcus sprang in.

"If we walk, Serge," he said, "we shall not get there till after dark."

"And then have a lot of trouble about going up to the camp," said Serge--"perhaps get a spear in one's ribs; but I wouldn't hurry.

Besides, we don't know whether the country's clear between us and them."

It was a glorious evening, and for the first time the land with its forest and verdant hills looked beautiful to Marcus by comparison with the rugged barren mountains they had traversed, and whose peaks lowered up stern and forbidding in the distance, as they glanced back from time to time.

A sharp look-out was kept, as whenever the trees were not too close the adventurers made cautious observations of the surrounding country, but nothing suggestive of the enemy was seen, the broad track made by the advancing Roman army marked their way, descending gradually from the edge of the forest into one of the valleys beyond which extended the range of verdant hills. Upon the special one that they had marked down they had a clear view of the busy soldiery pa.s.sing to and fro and looking diminutive in the extreme, before the track led farther into the woody valley and the hills were completely shut out.

The distance proved greater than they had expected, but there was their guide wandering here and there up ascents or down into the depths of the valley along which meandered a lovely little river whose moist meadow-like sides were sadly trampled and cut up. Still there was no sign of danger, and the river bank was followed for some distance.

"But those hills are on the other side, Serge," said Marcus after a time.

"Yes, and before long we shall come upon a shallow place that has been forded. They'll have picked out a spot where the chariots could easily pa.s.s, and what would do for them will do nicely for us, boy. So keep on, and hold your eyes open, for where the Roman soldiers are, the enemy's men will be pretty near at hand."

Soon after, the track followed a bend of the river, going nearer and nearer, and then all at once struck straight for the bright flowing water, ending at the trampled down bank, and reappearing plainly enough on the farther side.

"Not above a foot deep," grunted Serge; and he proved to be right, the water never once coming up to the chariot's axle trees, while the ponies' hoofs just splashed in the barely covered gravel as they pa.s.sed out on to the springy gra.s.s on the farther side, where the track was more plain than ever.

"Shall we get there before dark, Serge?" said Marcus, after a time.

"Hope so, boy, or we shall find it a bit hard. It's easy enough now, but when the sun's down it will be rather hard to follow the marks with all these trees overhead."

"But the path must soon begin to ascend the hill," said Marcus.

"I expect they'll have found it easier to walk round it and slope up from the other side. I dare say they've got a good deal of baggage-- impedimenta, as we call it--else I should have thought that they might have struck up the valley slope at once. It will be dark before long; sooner than I expected."