use have you to make, sir, for
deserting your post?"

"I didn't, master," cried the old soldier, stoutly. "I didn't desert my
post. My post was where I was last night, at my master's side. It was
my post that deserted me."

"What!" cried Cracis, angrily. "Insolent!"

"Nay, master," cried the old soldier; "I'm as humble as young Marcus
there, and I'd kneel down just the same as he's a-doing now, but them
Gauls knocked me about so in the fight that my legs won't bend. Look
here, master; I couldn't help it. I was just like the boy there; I felt
somehow that you'd want your old follower's help, and I was obliged to
come and join you. You see, we came together, and reached you just in
time."

"You disobeyed my commands, Serge," said Cracis, speaking as if deaf to
his old follower's appealing words. "You too, my son; but the words of
both tell of the repentance in your breasts. Prove, then, by your next
acts that you are willing to make amends. Silence! Do not speak, but
act. The horrors and bloodshed of this campaign are not for my son and
servant. You, Serge, do your duty as guardian--you, Marcus, yours, in
obedience at once. Back home at once, and I will forgive."

"And leave you now, father, wounded, amidst all these perils?" cried
Marcus, wildly. "I cannot! I would sooner die!"

Cracis started angrily to his feet and tore the bandage from his head,
as at that moment two officers advanced as if to receive commands.

"You hear me, Marcus?" he cried, sternly. "You hear me, Serge?"

"Yes, master," said the old soldier, slowly, and making an effort with
his bruised and stiffened limb, he slowly passed his hand across to his
left side and drew his short, heavy sword, passed the hilt into his left
so that he could clasp the blade with his right, and in that way held it
out to Cracis as he went on speaking: "I disobeyed you once, master, and
that's enough for a Roman soldier. Take hold. I've kept it as sharp as
it was in the old days when I followed you to victory, ready to die for
you, master, as I am this day, for I can't live to disobey you again.
Take it, I say, master, and let me die at once; better that you should
cut me down than that I should myself fall upon my sword, for that has
always seemed to me a coward's death."

"Stop, Serge!" cried Marcus, passionately, and he laid his hand upon his
old comrade's blade. "I am a Roman, if only a boy, and I have the right
to appeal."

Turning to Ca