in to keep up with the long strides of the man, while
the wistful eyes, which were fixed on that distant town, seemed to
wonder if they would really ever reach their journey's end.

'Art tired already, Pietro?' asked the father at length, hearing a
panting little sigh at his side. 'Why, we are not yet half-way there!
Thou must step bravely out and be a man, for to-day thou shalt begin to
work for thy living, and no longer live the life of an idle child.'

The boy squared his shoulders, and his eyes shone.

'It is not I who am tired, my father,' he said. 'It is only that my
legs cannot take such good long steps as thine; and walk as we will the
road ever seems to unwind itself further and further in front, like the
magic white thread which has no end.'

The father laughed, and patted the child's head kindly.

'The end will come ere long,' he said. 'See where the mist lies at the
foot of the hill; there we will begin to climb among the olive-trees
and leave the dusty road. I know a quicker way by which we may reach
the city. We will climb over the great stones that mark the track of
the stream, and before the sun grows too hot we will have reached the
city gates.'

It was a great relief to the little hot, tired feet to feel the cool
grass beneath them, and to leave the dusty road. The boy almost forgot
his tiredness as he scrambled from stone to stone, and filled his hands
with the violets which grew thickly on the banks, scenting the morning
air with their sweetness. And when at last they came out once more upon
the great white road before the city gates, there was so much to gaze
upon and wonder at, that there was no room for thoughts of weariness or
hunger.

There stood the herds of great white oxen, patiently waiting to pass
in. Pietro wondered if their huge wide horns would not reach from side
to side of the narrow street within the gates. There the shepherd-boys
played sweet airs upon their pipes as they walked before their flocks,
and led the silly frightened sheep out of the way of passing carts.
Women with bright-coloured handkerchiefs tied over their heads crowded
round, carrying baskets of fruit and vegetables from the country round.
Carts full of scarlet and yellow pumpkins were driven noisily along.
Whips cracked, people shouted and talked as much with their hands as
with their lips, and all were eager to pass through the great Etruscan
gateway, which stood grim and tall against the blue of the summer