!"

Who could tell how it came about? No one had thought of it an hour
before. And now it sprang in an instant to full accomplishment. The
shout of the frenzied young African had scarcely rung through the
darkness when from the tents, from the watch-fires, from the sentries,
the answer came pealing back: "Ave Maximinus! Ave Maximinus Augustus!"
From all sides men came rushing, half-clad, wild-eyed, their eyes
staring, their mouths agape, flaming wisps of straw or flaring torches
above their heads. The giant was caught up by scores of hands, and sat
enthroned upon the bull-necks of the legionaries. "To the camp!" they
yelled. "To the camp! Hail! Hail to the soldier Caesar!"

That same night Severus Alexander, the young Syrian Emperor, walked
outside his Praetorian camp, accompanied by his friend Licinius Probus,
the Captain of the Guard. They were talking gravely of the gloomy faces
and seditious bearing of the soldiers. A great foreboding of evil
weighed heavily upon the Emperor's heart, and it was reflected upon the
stern bearded face of his companion.

"I like it not," said he. "It is my counsel, Caesar, that with the first
light of morning we make our way south once more."

"But surely," the Emperor answered, "I could not for shame turn my back
upon the danger. What have they against me? How have I harmed them that
they should forget their vows and rise upon me?"

"They are like children who ask always for something new. You heard the
murmur as you rode along the ranks. Nay, Caesar, fly to-morrow, and your
Praetorians will see that you are not pursued. There may be some loyal
cohorts among the legions, and if we join forces----"

A distant shout broke in upon their conversation--a low continued roar,
like the swelling tumult of a sweeping wave. Far down the road upon
which they stood there twinkled many moving lights, tossing and sinking
as they rapidly advanced, whilst the hoarse tumultuous bellowing broke
into articulate words, the same tremendous words, a thousand-fold
repeated. Licinius seized the Emperor by the wrist and dragged him under
the cover of some bushes.

"Be still, Caesar! For your life be still!" he whispered. "One word and
we are lost!"

Crouching in the darkness, they saw that wild procession pass, the
rushing, screaming figures, the tossing arms, the bearded, distorted
faces, now scarlet and now grey, as the brandished torches waxed or
waned. They heard the rush of many feet, the clamour