pid! Come here!" he roared again, quite oblivious of the fact
that even if the distance had not prevented the dog from hearing, the
noise of the horses' beating hoofs would have effectually drowned
Serge's voice.

"Ought we not to stop and help him, Serge?" cried Marcus.

"No, boy; you know we ought not. We've got to get on with that message,
and we must think of nothing else now we are clear. We must not even
slacken while the path is so good; so keep on. You wanted a big gallop,
so take it and be content, for the horses are going fast enough to
satisfy anyone."

"Yes," sighed Marcus. "But poor old Lupe!"

"He must take care of himself, boy," growled Serge. "Look at him,
charging at the enemy as he is, when he is doing no good and running the
risks for nothing."

"He has stopped the pursuit," said Marcus.

"Yes; but why can't he be content now he has done it, and come on,
instead of asking them as plainly as a dog can speak, to thrust a spear
through his ribs?"

"But he knows no better," pleaded Marcus, who was watching all that was
going on, and feeling proud of the dog's bravery in charging the enemy
furiously from time to time, and escaping every thrust as if by a
miracle. "I don't want to lose time, Serge," cried Marcus, raising his
voice so that his companion could hear, "but I am going to check the
horses for a few moments so that I can shout to Lupe. If he hears my
voice calling him he will come."

"He's coming without, boy," cried Serge, angrily. "Oh! Poor old
fellow! But it's his own fault. I knew he'd get it at last, and he
has. That thrust has been too much for him. Look!"

Marcus was already looking sharply enough to have seen, at the same
moment as his companion, Lupe make a rush at the halting enemy, whose
spears flashed in the bright light; and then the dog rushed away again,
to stand apparently barking furiously at his enemies, before dashing off
after the chariot for about a hundred yards, and then stopping short to
roll over and over.

"Killed!" cried Marcus, in a voice full of anguish.

"No," said Serge, hoarsely; "he's up again and tearing after us."

But the next minute the dog had dropped again, and as far as those in
the chariot could make out in the increasing distance, was busily
engaged in licking his flank, and Marcus said so.

"Not sure," cried Serge, "but I'm afraid he has got an ugly dig. Is he
going to lie down and die?"

"Surely not!" cried Marcus, excite