" cried Serge, sharply, and to
Marcus the man's manner struck him as being completely changed, for he
spoke shortly and bluntly, standing up as stiff and erect as before, and
then in his misery and disappointment there was something very near akin
to malicious triumph as his father said, sternly:

"Tut, man! Take that off! Did you think you were going too?"

Serge's jaw dropped.

CHAPTER TEN.

LEFT BEHIND.

"Not going too, master?" cried Serge, as soon as he could recover
himself from a verbal blow which had, for the moment, seemed to crush
him down; and, as Marcus heard the hopeless despair in the poor fellow's
tones, the feeling of malicious triumph in his breast died away.

"No," said Cracis, firmly; "your duty lies here."

"Lies here, master?" stammered Serge.

"Yes, man, here. Whom am I to leave in charge of my home? Who is to
protect my son if I take you with me?"

"Home--Son?" faltered Serge. "But you, master--who is to protect you if
your old follower is left behind?"

"I must protect myself, Serge," said Cracis, and his voice lost for the
moment the hard, firm sternness of the soldier. "Your duty is here,
Serge, and I look to you to carry it out. I leave you a greater charge
than that of following and trying to shield me."

"No, no, master, no!" cried the old soldier, passionately. "I was with
you always. I followed you through the wars, and I've stood by you like
a man in peace. Once my master always my master while you could trust
me, and it must be so still."

"No, Serge," cried Cracis, sternly. "I have told you your duty and now
give you your orders. Protect my property; watch over my son till my
return, if I ever do return," he added, sadly; "and if I fall, your
place is still here to stand by my son and follow him as you have
followed me."

"But you will not let me follow you, master!" cried Serge, passionately.
"Oh, master, master! Young Marcus isn't a suckling; he's big and
strong enough to fend himself. I've been waiting all these years for
you to take your place as a soldier and a general once again! Don't--
pray don't leave me behind!"

"Serge," said Cracis, sternly, "you have led these years of peace, but
recollect that you are a soldier still. Man, your officer has given you
your orders--Obey!"

As Marcus gazed at their old follower he seemed to have suddenly grown
old. His face was wrinkled, and the skin appeared to hang, while a
piteous look of despair fil