ar ahead."

"Think so, Serge?"

"Sure of it, boy. It has rained since morning, and whoever passed along
here has made these marks since the rain."

"And it's certainly not a retreat, Serge, for there's no sign of
fighting."

"Not a bit, my boy. It's our army on the march, and all those signs
show that our men were in full fettle, ready for anything, and are
pushing forward into the middle of the enemy's country. See yon
mountains?"

"Mountains!" said Marcus. "You might call them hills."

"Well, hills, then; and it strikes me that we shall find these tracks
lead straight to one of those green nicely-rounded tops with a pleasant
slope all round. Now, there's that one there," continued Serge,
pointing to a hill standing by itself; "that's just the sort of place my
old officer would have picked out for his next halting camp, lead his
men right to the top, mark out their places, and have them all at work
before sundown, busy as bees digging out a ditch and throwing up a wall
of earth in front for our men to fight behind, in case they were
attacked."

Serge had hardly ceased speaking as he walked with Marcus on one side of
their horses, the driver on the other, to rest the brave little animals
as much as possible, when, passing round a clump of trees, following the
bend of the track made by the marching army, they came more fully in
view of the hills whose tops only they had seen before.

Nearest of all was the one to which Serge had drawn attention, and as
this opened out more and more in the evening sunshine Marcus uttered an
ejaculation and caught at his companion's arm.

"Ah!" cried Serge, starting, and he raised his hand to sign to their
driver to stop, before catching at one of the ponies' reins. "What is
it? Enemy?"

"I don't know," cried Marcus, excitedly. "Look!"

The old soldier shaded his eyes, and uttered a cry of joy.

"Enemy? No?" he cried. "It's just as I said. Look, boy! Our people!
Our army! Far off as it is, I know them by the standards, and the way
they have gone to work. Look at them! Why they look no bigger than
bees from here, and it is as I said. They are forming camp as if they
meant to stop for days."

"Oh, don't, Serge," cried the boy, huskily. "Don't talk like this if
you are not sure. It seems too good to believe, after all that we have
gone through."

"Not it, boy!" cried Serge, excitedly. "Not a bit too good. Look at
all the bad we have had. Everything has