e rod of Rome.'

She fired into the face of the lull, to wake up the cowardly wind, and
heard a grunt from behind a thorn in the pasture.

'Oh, my Winkie!' she said aloud, and that was something she had picked up
from Dan. 'I believe I've tickled up a Gleason cow.'

'You little painted beast!' a voice cried. 'I'll teach you to sling your
masters!'

She looked down most cautiously, and saw a young man covered with hoopy
bronze armour all glowing among the late broom. But what Una admired
beyond all was his great bronze helmet with its red horse-tail that
flicked in the wind. She could hear the long hairs rasp on his shimmery
shoulder-plates.

'What does the Faun mean,' he said, half aloud to himself, 'by telling me
the Painted People have changed?' He caught sight of Una's yellow head.
'Have you seen a painted lead-slinger?' he called.

'No-o,' said Una. 'But if you've seen a bullet----'

'Seen?' cried the man. 'It passed within a hair's breadth of my ear.'

'Well, that was me. I'm most awfully sorry.'

'Didn't the Faun tell you I was coming?' He smiled.

'Not if you mean Puck. I thought you were a Gleason cow. I--I didn't know
you were a--a----What are you?'

He laughed outright, showing a set of splendid teeth. His face and eyes
were dark, and his eyebrows met above his big nose in one bushy black bar.

'They call me Parnesius. I have been an officer of the Seventh Cohort of
the Thirtieth Legion--the Ulpia Victrix. Did you sling that bullet?'

'I did. I was using Dan's catapult,' said Una.

'Catapults!' said he. 'I ought to know something about them. Show me!'

He leaped the rough fence with a rattle of spear, shield, and armour, and
hoisted himself into 'Volaterrae' as quickly as a shadow.

'A sling on a forked stick. _I_ understand!' he cried, and pulled at the
elastic. 'But what wonderful beast yields this stretching leather?'

'It's laccy--elastic. You put the bullet into that loop, and then you pull
hard.'

The man pulled, and hit himself square on his thumb-nail.

'Each to his own weapon,' he said, gravely, handing it back. 'I am better
with the bigger machine, little maiden. But it's a pretty toy. A wolf
would laugh at it. Aren't you afraid of wolves?'

'There aren't any,' said Una.

'Never believe it! A wolf is like a Winged Hat. He comes when he isn't
expected. Don't they hunt wolves here?'

'We don't hunt,' said Una, remembering what she had heard from grown-ups.
'We preserve--pheasa