eems."
"Yes, a leader and two attendants. What a youth! Halt, young hero: if
you wish to go into the camp to the General,--only one is permitted to
ride in,--I must first cover your eyes. Dismount! You will not? Well
then, turn back again."
This was a severe blow to Adalo's hopes. He would so gladly have gazed
keenly about him in the Roman camp, scanned ditches, walls, gates,
and--two persons within that frowning palisade. He sullenly dismounted.
A thick woollen blanket was thrown in loose folds over his head like a
huge sack and fastened under his chin: Rignomer took him by the hand
and guided him to the gate, where a centurion of the Thracians received
the Barbarians' envoy.
Adalo's two companions also dismounted, tied the three horses to the
nearest trees, and soon lay chatting with the Batavians. The bad Latin
of the frontier, it is true, often had to aid the understanding of the
different dialects around the watchfire. With great exertion it had now
been rekindled, for it was growing very dark. Suddenly, from the forest
path by which the envoys had come, a strange growling was heard which
drew nearer and nearer. The whole group, including the two Alemanni,
started up in surprise.
"A bear?"
"So near the fire?"
"Slipped through our outposts?"
They seized the spears which stood stacked together. Then a Batavian,
laughing loudly, came around the bend of the narrow path, pointing
behind him. "Look, comrades! A Sarmatian juggler with a tame she-bear!
She dances to his big flute! It's very comical."
A cry of surprise escaped the lips of one of the Alemanni, whose eyes
and mouth opened in astonishment: "That's surely--"
But his companion gave him a violent dig in the ribs with his elbow: "A
she-bear! Yes. Didn't you ever see one?"
A man in the Sarmatian costume--black sheepskin with the wool turned
inside--now stepped into the firelight, leading by a leather thong a
large she-bear. Behind him, also clad in sheepskin, limped his boy,
probably carrying in his bundle provisions for their journey; he was a
poor cripple, who made his way forward slowly with the help of a
crutch, and doubtless found it hard either to stand or to walk; for
when the third Batavian, shoving him with the handle of his spear,
invited him to come nearer to the fire, the poor lad, with a low cry,
fell on the grass.
The soldiers, with Roman and German taunts, asked what _he_ could do.
He did not stir.
"You can talk to him a
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