spring, from which he landed in the middle of the
rapidly-going vehicle, and then couched down, bent his head over as he
let himself fall over on his left side, and began licking his wound as
calmly as if nothing had happened more than the receiving of a big
scratch.

"Why, Lupe, Lupe, old dog!" cried Marcus, as he knelt beside the wounded
animal hard at work over his natural surgery.

Upon hearing the boy's voice the dog ceased his task, looked up in
Marcus' face with his big intelligent eyes, beat the floor of the
chariot a few times heavily with his tail, and then went on again with
his dressing of his wound.

"There," cried Serge, after looking back at the distant Gauls, "they're
not likely to pursue us, so make him ease the ponies down a little. We
must not wear them out at the start. That's better," he continued, as
Marcus touched the driver on the shoulder and signed to him to moderate
their speed.

This done, Serge placed his spear in the loops and Marcus' beside it,
before sinking down upon his knees on the other side of the wounded dog.

"Now then," he said, "let's see whether it's very bad or not," and he
laid his great hand upon the dog's head.

Lupe ceased the licking upon the instant, and raised his head to gaze
intelligently in the old soldier's eyes.

"Good dog!" said the latter, speaking with gruff gentleness. "I won't
hurt you more than I can help."

As if he comprehended the old soldier's words and placed full confidence
in his knowledge and power, Lupe stretched himself out fully upon his
left side, extended his head, and, half closing his eyes, lay perfectly
still as if dead.

"Poor old Lupe!" said Marcus, softly, and he took hold of the dog's
right forepaw, with the result that the poor animal winced, but only
whined a little and did not try to withdraw his leg, but at the same
time began again to beat the floor of the chariot with his tail, keeping
up the latter, as Serge carefully examined the injury.

"Nasty place!" growled Serge.

"Not dangerous?" cried Marcus, anxiously.

"Dangerous? No, not it. He had got himself into the right position
when the spear thrust was made. It's bad enough, of course--"

"Oh, Serge!" cried Marcus.

"But there's no likelihood of its being dangerous. The spear caught him
on the flank and went right in alongside his ribs, from the thick hair
above his shoulder right away to the front of his hind jumper."

"Deep in the flesh, Serge?"

"No,