re I, your
friend's friend, became such a good spear-thrower."

'He did not actually point his hunting spear at Maximus, but balanced it
on his palm--so!

'"I was speaking of time past," said Maximus, never fluttering an eyelid.
"Nowadays one is only too pleased to find boys who can think for
themselves, _and_ their friends." He nodded at Pertinax. "Your Father lent
me the letters, Parnesius, so you run no risk from me."

'"None whatever," said Pertinax, and rubbed the spear-point on his sleeve.

'"I have been forced to reduce the garrisons in Britain, because I need
troops in Gaul. Now I come to take troops from the Wall itself," said he.

'"I wish you joy of us," said Pertinax. "We're the last sweepings of the
Empire--the men without hope. Myself, I'd sooner trust condemned
criminals."

'"You think so?" he said, quite seriously. "But it will only be till I win
Gaul. One must always risk one's life, or one's soul, or one's peace--or
some little thing."

'Allo passed round the fire with the sizzling deer's meat. He served us
two first.

'"Ah!" said Maximus, waiting his turn. "I perceive you are in your own
country. Well, you deserve it. They tell me you have quite a following
among the Picts, Parnesius."

'"I have hunted with them," I said. "Maybe I have a few friends among the
Heather."

'"He is the only armoured man of you all who understands us," said Allo,
and he began a long speech about our virtues, and how we had saved one of
his grandchildren from a wolf the year before.'

'Had you?' said Una.

'Yes; but that was neither here nor there. The little green man orated
like a--like Cicero. He made us out to be magnificent fellows. Maximus
never took his eyes off our faces.

'"Enough," he said. "I have heard Allo on you. I wish to hear you on the
Picts."

'I told him as much as I knew, and Pertinax helped me out. There is never
harm in a Pict if you but take the trouble to find out what he wants.
Their real grievance against us came from our burning their heather. The
whole garrison of the Wall moved out twice a year, and solemnly burned the
heather for ten miles North. Rutilianus, our General, called it clearing
the country. The Picts, of course, scampered away, and all we did was to
destroy their bee-bloom in the summer, and ruin their sheep-food in the
spring.

'"True, quite true," said Allo. "How can we make our holy heather-wine, if
you burn our bee-pasture?"

'We talked long, Maximus asking