dly at
the animal's "friendliness." But, as soon as she was alone in her tent
with the faithful beast, she clasped the huge head tenderly with both
white arms, kissed the broad forehead and lovingly patted the neck of
the bear, who growled affectionately in reply. Then she slipped her
hand through the collar, felt a depression in it, drew it up from the
shaggy skin to the light of the Roman lamp, perceived characters
scrawled on it, and read: "Through the gate to the lake."

Her heart throbbed warmly. So her friends had already consulted about
her escape! They were giving her the safest direction, the part of the
camp where her companions would wait for her. But they could not
possibly mean that she should try to make her way now, without further
delay, through the lake gate, that is, through the "Porta Decumana," so
closely guarded day and night. Not now! But when?

Evidently as soon as something happened which would render escape
possible; then she was to choose that direction. But what was to
happen? An attack of the Alemanni? Ausonius laughed at it. Even
cautious Saturninus had said: "Unless they fly over it like the
swallows that are now preparing for departure, they will not come into
this solid camp."

So she racked her little brains, pondering over all sorts of
possibilities which might bring her liberty against or with the will of
the Romans. Should she appeal to Ausonius again? No!

A strange timidity had taken possession of her ever since her last
interview with him. She had never cherished any affection for the
clever, eloquent man except the feeling a daughter has for a father;
but recently, in making the proposal to take her with him, his eyes had
rested on her so strangely. Never had he looked at her so before. It
was like the gaze Saturninus fixed upon her when he seized her outside
of the forest hut--but never again, not even when he told her that she
belonged to him and he would not release her.

So it happened that the sensitive girl, alarmed by the suddenly
discovered ardor of the older man, felt safer and more at ease with the
younger but undemonstrative one. She avoided Ausonius; she almost
sought Saturninus, to whom, at the beginning and during the whole
course of her captivity, she had learned to be grateful as to a
watchful guardian.

Often and often, since reading Bruna's message, she walked toward
the lake gate, without hoping to find it unwatched or carelessly
guarded,--the Tribune ke