starved," cried Marcus.

"Take your belt up another hole, then, boy. That's a splendid
tightener. Hungry! Why, you talk about it as if it was a disease, when
it's a thing you can cure yourself the first time you get hold of a big
cake and a bowl of goat's milk."

"Oh, how you talk!" cried the boy, holding out his arm and trying to
span his wrist with his fingers. "Look how thin I am getting."

"Thin!" cried Serge. "Why, you look prime. You have got rid of a lot
of that nasty fat that was filling out your skin through doing nothing
but sit on a stool all day making scratches with a stylus on a plate of
wax. What does a soldier want with fat? Your armour's quite heavy
enough to carry, without your being loaded up with a lot of fat. That's
right enough for women and girls; makes 'em look smooth and nice and
pretty, and fills up all the holes and corners; but a soldier wants bone
and muscle--good, hard, tough muscle and sinew, and that's what you have
got now. Look at me."

"Yes, I have looked at you time after time, Serge, and you look
hollow-cheeked and haggard and worn."

"Why, I feel prime, my boy, ready for anything; ten years younger than
when we started. Why, I have got into regular fighting condition again.
Did you see how I jumped into the car yesterday when the ponies started
without me?"

"Yes, I saw you run ever so far and jump," cried Marcus.

"And you begin talking to me about being haggard and worn! Isn't a
sword all the sharper for being a bit worn?"

"Yes, of course."

"So's a soldier. Look here, boy; we are getting seasoned, and I'm proud
to say that I am what a man's officer would call a veteran, and that's
the finest title there is in an army. Then, too, look at our lad here.
See what a splendid driver he's turned out, and how he can send that
chariot in and out among the rocks so close as almost to shave them, and
right in between pairs of them where you or I would think there wasn't
room to pass. And then there's the ponies! They are a bit thin,
certainly, but they are as fine as bronze, and can gallop farther and
better than ever. Now then! Speak out honest! Did you ever before see
such a splendid pair?"

"No, Serge, never."

"And yet you say that everything's wrong and hopeless and bad. Why,
boy, if I didn't know it was all through your being young and anxious
and eager to do your duty, I should be ashamed of you."

"But you are not, Serge?" cried the boy, excitedl