we do.
We're finished men--thumbs down against both of us. Only men without
hope would risk their necks on your ponies." The old man laughed one of
those short Pict laughs--like a fox barking on a frosty night. "I'm fond
of you two," he said. "Besides, I've taught you what little you know
about hunting. Take my advice and go home."

'"We can't," I said. "I'm out of favour with my General, for one thing;
and for another, Pertinax has an uncle."

'"I don't know about his uncle," said Allo, "but the trouble with you,
Parnesius, is that your General thinks well of you."

'"Roma Dea!" said Pertinax, sitting up. "What can you guess what Maximus
thinks, you old horse-coper?"

'Just then (you know how near the brutes creep when one is eating?) a
great dog-wolf jumped out behind us, and away our rested hounds tore
after him, with us at their tails. He ran us far out of any country we'd
ever heard of, straight as an arrow till sunset, towards the sunset. We
came at last to long capes stretching into winding waters, and on a grey
beach below us we saw ships drawn up. Forty-seven we counted--not Roman
galleys but the raven-winged ships from the North where Rome does not
rule. Men moved in the ships, and the sun flashed on their
helmets--winged helmets of the red-haired men from the North where Rome
does not rule. We watched, and we counted, and we wondered, for though
we had heard rumours concerning these Winged Hats, as the Picts called
them, never before had we looked upon them.

'"Come away! come away!" said Allo. "My Heather won't protect you here.
We shall all be killed!" His legs trembled like his voice. Back we
went--back across the heather under the moon, till it was nearly
morning, and our poor beasts stumbled on some ruins.

'When we woke, very stiff and cold, Allo was mixing the meal and water.
One does not light fires in the Pict country except near a village. The
little men are always signalling to each other with smokes, and a
strange smoke brings them out buzzing like bees. They can sting, too!

'"What we saw last night was a trading-station," said Allo. "Nothing but
a trading-station."

'"I do not like lies on an empty stomach," said Pertinax. "I suppose"
(he had eyes like an eagle's)--"I suppose _that_ is a trading-station
also?" He pointed to a smoke far off on a hill-top, ascending in what we
call the Picts' Call:--Puff--double-puff: double-puff--puff! They make
it by raising and dropping a wet hide on a