f could scarce
sustain it. Buttresses are needed, and my wall and camps will furnish
them on this furthest frontier. Beyond is but a waste given over to
wolves, wild boars, and painted savages. But what a prospect is here!
'Tis like the sea stretching away for ever in harvestless waves.'

On and westward they rode and along the windy crest of the fell, then
dipped down to the north Tyne river and the camp of Chesters set
thereby, thence through the limestone crags to Boreovicus on the
moorland--established on the edge of the basaltic outcrop that frowns
upon Bromlea Lough.

This great camp was already finished and garrisoned by Tungrian
auxiliaries; the great wall that was to link together the various camps,
trailed its length like a serpent till it mounted to Winshields height.
Across the valley rose the purple fells of South Tyne, and in the
distant haze Skiddaw's crest soared like an eagle.

On Winshields height Caesar was met by the Prefect of Luguvallum and his
guard, and here Castus and Rufus bade him farewell, and turned back
towards Corstopitum.

As they rode eastward, and had gained the edge of a fir wood beyond
Boreovicus, a very beautiful girl stepped suddenly forward, and laid a
hand on the rein of Rufus's pony.

She is of an extraordinary beauty, thought Castus, as he noted the
wealth of hair, blue eyes, clear skin, and finely chiselled features.
Evidently of noble birth, for she wore a linen shirt under her robe of
fur, and carried a gold chain about her neck. There was a look of
arrogance about her--a disdain, as it were, that set off her beauty like
a jewel, and as she conversed with Rufus she seemed, so Castus thought,
to be eyeing himself not without interest.

'What dost thou think of me, O Roman?' she seemed to ask through her
disdainful eyes. 'Am I not more beautiful than all the women of Rome?
Wouldst like to possess me? I care for none that proves not himself to
be a conqueror.'

Castus moved his pony slowly onward, then pausing for his comrade looked
back upon this proud girl of the wood who had aroused sensations he
thought he had left behind him in Rome.

As she bade good-bye to Rufus she turned away, but her last glance was
not upon Rufus but upon Castus, as the latter delighted to note.

'Who is this moorland beauty?' he inquired of his comrade, as the two
rode on again together.

'She is a cousin of mine,' Rufus replied carelessly. 'My mother and her
father and mother desire us