ead you to the place where the last party
are camping."

"Where's that?" said Marcus, sharply, for the man seemed to be taking
them a very devious course.

"Just outside the gate, over yonder. There, you can see the wall, and
in a few minutes we shall be there."

The old soldier's words proved to be quite true, as, at the end of a few
minutes, he led them to the little camp, all astir with the soldiery
preparing to start--horsemen, chariots, baggage, horses and camp
followers, all were there, with the leaders fuming and fretting about
making the last preparations, and eager to make the start.

The old soldier gave his new friends a nudge of the elbow and a very
knowing look.

"I know what to do," he said. "You leave it to me. I wasn't in a
marching army for years without learning something. Yonder is a big
captain, there by that standard. Nothing like going to the top at once.
Come along."

The old cripple drew himself up as well as he could, and, thumping his
stick heavily down, led the way to the fierce-looking captain, whose
face looked scarlet with anger and excitement.

"Here, captain," cried the old man.

The officer turned upon him angrily.

"Who are you, and what do you want?" he roared.

The old man pointed to Marcus and Serge.

"Two brave fighting men," he cried; "volunteers, well-armed and trained,
who want to join."

"Oh, I've all I want," cried the captain, roughly, "and--" He stopped
short, for, as he spoke, he ran his eyes over the two strangers, resting
them longest upon Serge, and he hesitated.

"Here, you," he said, as he noted the way in which Marcus' companion was
caparisoned, "you've been in the army before?"

"Years, captain," cried Serge, with military promptness. "I served with
Cracis and Julius in the old war."

"Hah! You'll do," cried the captain. "But I don't want boys."

Marcus' spirits had been rising to the highest point, but the
contemptuous tone in which these words were uttered dashed his hopes to
the ground, and he listened despairingly as in imagination he saw
himself rudely separated from his companion and left behind.

The thoughts were instantaneous, and he was consoling himself with the
reflection that Serge would not forsake him, and anticipating the old
soldier's words, as Serge turned sharply upon his new commander.

"Boys grow into men, captain," he said, sharply, "and I've trained this
one myself. He can handle a sword and spear better than I."