ius Julius, he cried:

"You refused me once, sir, when I appealed to you, saying that I was but
a weak unseasoned boy--not in those words, but that is what you meant."

Caius Julius gravely bent his head, and fixed his keen, glittering eyes
upon the speaker, who went on:

"Since then I have tried hard to prove myself worthy to bear the arms I
was taught by an old soldier to use."

The general bowed his head slowly once again.

"Then help me, sir. It is from no desire to disobey, but I feel that I
cannot leave my father now. Forgive me, father. I cannot obey you.
Forgive me, too, for this appeal."

"Yes," said Caius Julius, rising from his seat and taking a step or two
forward. "You both disobeyed, and came here bearers of an important
despatch which means more than you, boy, can imagine, in time to save a
father's and a master's life. Serge, old comrade," he continued, laying
his hand upon the unsheathed sword, "keep your blade for our enemies.
If it prove necessary I will kneel for you to my oldest friend and ask
his forgiveness for you and my brave young soldier here. Boy," he
continued, "you have confessed your fault as your father's son, but
since he left you, a simple scholar, you have become a soldier and
bravely done your duty in your country's cause. Cracis, my brother
general, I grant your son's appeal. Endorse it, man, for a fault so
frankly acknowledged is half atoned."

"I must have obedience," said Cracis, coldly, "not defiance, at a time
like this."

"I feel with you, old friend," said Caius Julius, slowly, "but your
wounds have fevered you, and it has not been cool, calculating Cracis
who has spoken, but the angry, offended general. Brother, you desire
that your old servant and your son should return home at once?"

"Yes," said Cracis, speaking faintly now.

"How?" said Caius Julius, quickly. "Alone, to fight their way through
the thousands of half conquered Gauls who will bar their way to the pass
where the great captain is waiting for help?"

Cracis looked wildly at his brother in arms, and then slowly turned his
eyes upon his son--eyes that had flashed but a short time before, but
which now softened into a look of loving pride, as he slowly sank back
insensible upon his rough pillow, Marcus darting to his side.

CHAPTER THIRTY TWO.

"MY OWN BRAVE BOY!"

The speech Cracis made when he recovered from the fainting fit brought
on by emotion when he was weak and prostrate from