w out his commands."

"Yes," said the boy, stoutly, "and that's what Serge says."

"Then he doesn't want you to be a soldier now?"

"No," cried the boy. "He says one of the first things a soldier learns
is to obey."

"Ah!" said the visitor, looking at the boy with his quiet smile. "I
should like to know this old soldier, Serge."

"You soon can," said the boy, laughing. "Here he comes!" For at that
moment there was the deep bark of a dog.

"The dog?" said the visitor.

"Oh, that's our wolf-hound, Lupe. It means that Serge is coming back."

The boy had hardly spoken when the man's step was heard outside, and,
directly after, as Marcus' guest sat watching the door, it was thrust
open, and the old soldier entered, saying: "Has the master come back, my
lad?" and started back, staring at the sight of the stranger.

"Not yet, Serge. This is a gentleman, a traveller from Rome, who is
sitting down to rest."

Serge drew himself up with a soldierly salute, which was received with
dignity, and, as eyes met, the stranger looked the old warrior through
and through, while Serge seemed puzzled and suspicious, as he slowly
raised his hand and rubbed his head.

"Yes," said the visitor, "your young master has been playing the kindly
host to a weary man. Why do you look at me so hard? You know my face?"

"No," said Serge, gruffly; "no. But I think I have seen someone like
you before."

"And I," said the visitor, "have seen many such like you, but few who
bear such a character as your young master gives."

"Eh?" cried Serge, sharply. "Why, what's he been saying about me?"

"Told me what a brave old soldier you have been."

"Oh! Oh! Stuff!" growled Serge, sourly.

"And of how carefully you have taught him the duties of a soldier, and
told him all about the war."

"There!" cried Serge, angrily, stepping forward to bring his big, hairy
fist down upon the table with a thump. "I don't know you, or who you
are, but you have come here tired, and been given refreshment and rest,
and, instead of being thankful, you have been putting all sorts of
things in this boy's head again that he ought to have forgot."

"Serge! Serge!" cried Marcus, excitedly. "Mind what you are saying!
This is a stranger, and a noble gentleman from Rome."

"I don't care who he is," replied the old soldier, fiercely. "He's no
business to be coming here and talking like this. Now, look here, sir,"
he continued, turning upon the visitor, w