below the Forge.'

'That's Forge Mill--our Mill!' Una looked at Puck.

'Yes; yours,' Puck put in. 'How old did you think it was?'

'I don't know. Didn't Sir Richard Dalyngridge talk about it?'

'He did, and it was old in his day,' Puck answered. 'Hundreds of years
old.'

'It was new in mine,' said Parnesius. 'My men looked at the flour in
their helmets as though it had been a nest of adders. They did it to
try my patience. But I--addressed them, and we became friends. To
tell the truth, they taught me the Roman Step. You see, I'd only
served with quick-marching Auxiliaries. A Legion's pace is altogether
different. It is a long, slow stride, that never varies from sunrise
to sunset. "Rome's Race--Rome's Pace," as the proverb says.
Twenty-four miles in eight hours, neither more nor less. Head and
spear up, shield on your back, cuirass-collar open one
handsbreadth--and that's how you take the Eagles through Britain.'

'And did you meet any adventures?' said Dan.

'There are no adventures South the Wall,' said Parnesius. 'The worst
thing that happened me was having to appear before a magistrate up
North, where a wandering philosopher had jeered at the Eagles. I was
able to show that the old man had deliberately blocked our road; and
the magistrate told him, out of his own Book, I believe, that, whatever
his Gods might be, he should pay proper respect to Caesar.'

'What did you do?' said Dan.

'Went on. Why should I care for such things, my business being to
reach my station? It took me twenty days.

'Of course, the farther North you go the emptier are the roads. At
last you fetch clear of the forests and climb bare hills, where wolves
howl in the ruins of our cities that have been. No more pretty girls;
no more jolly magistrates who knew your Father when he was young, and
invite you to stay with them; no news at the temples and way-stations
except bad news of wild beasts. There's where you meet hunters, and
trappers for the Circuses, prodding along chained bears and muzzled
wolves. Your pony shies at them, and your men laugh.

'The houses change from gardened villas to shut forts with watch-towers
of grey stone, and great stone-walled sheepfolds, guarded by armed
Britons of the North Shore. In the naked hills beyond the naked
houses, where the shadows of the clouds play like cavalry charging, you
see puffs of black smoke from the mines. The hard road goes on and
on--and the wind sings thro