Part 25 (1/2)
”No, no; I thought he would howl till someone came and let him out; but I didn't want him to follow me. Someone must have let him out in the morning.”
”Oh, I don't know,” said Serge, who began replacing his armour. ”He'd have got out somehow, through the window or roof.”
”He couldn't,” cried Marcus.
”Think not? Then he'd have scratched a way for himself under the door.”
”Well, but then?”
”Oh, then--he'd have stood and smelt about till he'd got hold of our scent, and then come on.”
”What, all this way and all this time? The scent couldn't have lain so long.”
”It never seems to me that there's any scent at all,” said Serge, ”but old Lupe there somehow seems to do it. He _is_ a dog, and no mistake.
Why, he's lost himself time after time going after the wolves when I have been out hunting, and it has seemed to me that I should never find him again. Why, you know, he's been away sometimes for days, but he's always found his way back. Well, now then, give yourself your orders to get ready to march, and let's get on to Rome.”
”Yes, of course,” cried Marcus.
”But how do you feel, lad? You seemed ready to knock up last night, tired out.”
”Did I?” cried Marcus, flus.h.i.+ng slightly.
”Did yer? Why, you seemed sore all over, whining about your armour and your helmet.”
”Oh, nonsense!” cried the boy, as he hastily followed his companion's lead, handily buckling and securing his defensive armour the while. ”We had had a very long march, and it was as hot as could be. I feel quite fresh this morning.”
”Ready for anything, eh? Well, what about this chap?”
”Lupe?”
”Yes; we don't want him. The general won't want him to join.”
”No-o,” said Marcus, thoughtfully, as he stooped to pat the dog's head, a favour which Lupe responded to by leaning himself as hard as he could against his young master's legs. ”I should like to have him with us, Serge.”
”So should I, boy, if it comes to that. He'd have been splendid with us, and saved us scouting when those rough uns were hanging round. Why, if I had had him with me when those six came on they would have been no worse than three, and I shouldn't have wanted you.”
”Yes,” said Marcus, thoughtfully, ”I should like to keep him with us, but I'm afraid we shall have to send him away.”
”Send him away!” cried Serge. ”You may try to send, but he won't go.
We can't take him with us,” continued the man, drily, ”and it looks to me as if we shall have to make an end of him and hang him on the nearest tree.”
”What!” cried Marcus with a look of horror. ”You wouldn't be such a brute?”
”No,” said Serge, slowly, ”I suppose I wouldn't; but what are we to do?
The first captain that we speak to when we get to the army and ask him to let us join his lot will shake his head at us if we bring a dog.”
”Yes, I suppose so,” said Marcus, thoughtfully.
”But look here, we wouldn't bring him. We didn't bring him. He came.