ordinate in turning a reconnaissance into a raid, was another and
much more serious matter.

The praefect noted his hesitation, and a slight frown chased the smile
from his lips.

"Or perhaps you prefer to obey the old woman's orders," he added, "and
keep your couch warm. Well, our men and horses are fed by this time, and
I am off. If you are a Roman, I greet you to ride with me; if you fear
robbers or the axe that smote Titus Manlius, why, I will bid you farewell
and ride alone."

"Where do you set your course?" queried Sergius, with a vague hope of at
least seeming to combine inclination with duty.

"Toward the enemy," replied the other, shortly. "Does not the direction
please you?" and he turned to his horse.

Sergius' brow clouded. His blood was hot with the conflict just
finished. Youth, courage--all combined to turn him from obedience; but
obedience bade fair to conquer, when Marcia's laugh rang in his ears, and
he could hear her gravely complimenting his prudence and discoursing on
the rare value of docility in a husband. Besides, what did it all
matter? Had he not said that he sought death? and, surely, the way it
came soonest was the best.

Placing his hand upon his horse's withers, he vaulted upon its back,
before the animal had time to kneel, and a moment later was beside
Hostilius.

"By Hercules!" exclaimed the latter; "I am glad you are here. Even in
these days of strange things, I would have found it difficult to imagine
that a Sergian could be a coward."

"And now," cried Sergius, "you will only have to imagine him a fool. So
be it, and let the cost of his life pay for his folly."

"Jupiter avert the omen!" exclaimed Hostilius, shuddering, and then,
turning to his trumpeter, he bade him give the signal for the march.

It was a desolate country--the fair plains of Campania through which they
rode. Here and there a cluster of blackened ruins, here and there things
that were once men, fruit trees cut down, vines uprooted, corn-fields
reaped with the sword; while far away upon the horizon smoky columns
curled up to show that the work of devastation still went on.

"May Mavers curse him--curse him forever!" cried Hostilius, grinding his
teeth in rage at each new manifestation of the enemy's handiwork. "Could
the most disastrous battle be worse than this?"

Sergius was silent. In a way his feelings went out to meet those of his
companion; but the dictator had trusted him, and he had di