Part 42 (1/2)

”Yes, I do, boy. Nay, I feel sure. There's been a big fight yonder where those crows are flying about.”

”Yes: I see,” cried Marcus. ”But--but which side has won?”

”Ah, that we are going to see, my boy, and before long too. Turn a bit more to the right, my man,” he continued, laying his hand upon the driver's shoulder, and their direction was a trifle altered, with the result that before long they were pa.s.sing by the side of a portion of the plain where it was evident that a desperate encounter had taken place from the large number of ghastly relics of the engagement that lay scattered about, spread over the s.p.a.ce of quite a mile.

The scene was pa.s.sed in silence, Marcus pressing their driver to urge on the ponies till they were well ahead, after grasping the fact that a stubborn stand must have been made, and that the action had been continued onward to where they stood.

”Well,” said Serge, ”you see all clearly enough now, don't you, boy?”

”I'm not quite sure,” said Marcus, thoughtfully, ”though I think our army must have won the day.”

”There's no doubt about that, boy, and in such a fight as it has been they could not help losing heavily; but I haven't seen the body and arms of a single Roman soldier, and that is a sure sign that they won the day, and then stopped to carry away their wounded and bury their dead.”

Marcus shuddered, and they rode on for a time in silence, pa.s.sing here and there a little mound, and as soon as they had cleared one the old soldier swept the distance with his eyes in search of another.

Marcus looked at him questioningly.

”Yes, boy,” said the old fellow, softly; ”an ugly way of tracking our road, but a sure. Those hillocks show where they've laid some of our poor fellows who fell out to lie down and die, and there their comrades found them.”

”War is very horrible,” said Marcus, after a pause.

”Well, yes,” replied Serge, ”I suppose it is; but soldiers think it's very glorious, and as a man's officers say it is, why, I suppose they're right. But there; that's not for us to think about. It's not horrible for our Roman soldiers to stop and bury their slain, and their doing this has made it easy for us to follow the track of the army.”

”Yes,” said Marcus, who was gazing straight before him; ”and look there.”

Serge shaded his eyes, and gazed in the direction pointed out.

”Yes,” he said, ”that's another sign-post to show us our way, and I dare say we shall come upon some more, ready to prove that we are on the right track. The crows seem to have been pretty busy there, boy.”

”The crows and the ants,” said Marcus.

”Yes, and maybe the wolves have been down from the mountains to have their turn.”

”Whoever would think, Serge, that those scattered white bones had once formed a beautiful horse, just such a one as these we have in the chariot?”

”Ah, who indeed?” replied the old soldier. ”But I don't know that we want to think about it, boy. Let's think about your message and getting on to deliver it. We must make the best of our way while the light lasts, so as to get on as far as we can, as we know now that we're going right. I should like to get down to some hilly or mountainous. .h.i.t.”

”What for, Serge?”

”To climb up when it's dark.”

”Because you think it will be safe to sleep there?”

”No, boy; I was not thinking of sleeping till we get our message delivered. I was wondering whether we should be lucky enough to get so far that after dark, if we climbed up high enough, we might be able to see our people's watch fires twinkling like stars in the distance.”

”Oh, Serge, that would be capital!” cried Marcus, excitedly. ”Do you think we shall be so fortunate?”

”Don't know, boy,” growled the old soldier; ”but hurry the ponies along while we can see that we are on the right track. There's no reason why we shouldn't be fortunate.”