ng, you mean. But think of you
having such luck as that!"

"Luck?--Luck?" said the same voice, slowly.

"Yes, I never saw anything like you. Sprang forward, you did, just as
the general's horse reared up, and saved him from an ugly death by the
thrust you gave that Gaul."

"Who did?" said the same voice, feebly heard in the horrible dream.

"Who did? Why, you did, and covered him afterwards with your shield all
the while he was pinned down by his dead charger. Why, Marcus, boy, if
you were a man you'd be made a big officer at once. But what's the
matter with you, boy?"

"I--I don't know, Serge."

"But I do!" roared the old soldier, with a roar like a lion. "Why, who
did this?"

"That--that Gaul," said the boy, faintly, as he felt himself seized and
pressed back, to lie with his head pillowed upon the dead charger's
neck, while he was conscious of his old comrade's hands being busily
unbuckling his armour and then bandaging him tightly to stop the flowing
blood.

"Feel better now, boy?" cried Serge, at last, as he bent down close to
the wounded lad's face.

"Yes; not so sick," was the reply. "But tell me, Serge, about the
fight," and as Marcus uttered these words he was conscious that they
were his own.

"Tell you about the fight? Ah, that's a sign you are better. A nasty
cut, my boy, between the shoulder and the neck. But it's nothing to
hurt."

"But it does, Serge."

"Pooh! Only smarts. It hasn't killed you. Soldiers expect wounds, and
you've got yours."

"But the fight--the fight?"

"Oh, just what I told you it would be, boy. The captain has brought his
men down the pass, and the Gauls, taken between the two armies, are
breaking up and streaming away to right and left. There'll be no Gallic
army by the time the litters come to carry the wounded off the field,
and the first shall be for the lad who saved the life of Caius Julius."

"Oh, Serge, it is impossible that I could have done that," said Marcus,
feebly.

"That's what I should have said, boy, if I had not seen."

"But, Serge?"

"I look out sharp, boy, so don't doubt what I say. Your wound made you
forget. I wonder whether the general will."

"But you don't tell me about the fight, Serge."

"What, do you want to know more?"

"Of course."

"Well, the Gauls are taken in a trap, and after all is over I hope that
one of those snowstorms will come down from the pass to cover all that
the amphitheatre will have to show.