Marcus: the Young Centurion | Page 5

rapped the earth in recognition of the new-comers, but did not take its eyes from the door beyond which were the prisoners it had been set to guard.
"Now, boy," said the man, "it was your doing that I taught you a bit of soldiering, and a nice row there'll be about it some day when he finds us out; so now I'm just going to show you, if you're not too tired, how one good Roman can fight six enemies and beat 'em, same as we've often done in the good old days when I wore my armour and brass helmet with its plume, not a straw hat and things like these. Ah, boy," said the man, drawing himself up and shouldering his crook as if it were a spear, "those were grand old times! I was a better man then than now."
"No, you weren't, Serge, not a bit," cried the boy. "You must have always been what you are now--a dear good old chap who'd do anything for me."
The fierce-looking old fellow smiled pleasantly, literally beaming upon the boy, whom he patted on the shoulder.
"Ah," he said, "but there was no you then. But never mind all that. Hark!" he continued, softly, as a whispering was heard beyond the door, "They know we are coming, and they're thinking about making a rush when I open the door. But they'd better not try; you'd pin some of them, wouldn't you, Lupe?"
The dog uttered a low, deep, thundering growl.
"That's right, boy. Now, Marcus, my lad, if you feel too tired, say so, and we'll keep them till the master comes."
"Oh, don't do that," cried the boy. "He'd only talk to them and scold them, and then let them go, after forgiving them for stealing the grapes."
"That's right, boy; so he would."
"And they'd all laugh," cried Marcus, "and come again."
"But they won't after the welting you are going to give them, boy--if you are not too tired."
"Of course I'm tired," cried the boy, impatiently, "after a fight like that; but then they are tired too, so it's all fair--only six to one?"
"Don't I tell you that I am going to show you how to fight them as a Roman should, and how we used to conquer in the good old times before we took to reading and writing and came into the country to keep pigs."
"And grow corn and grapes, and feed our goats in this beautiful farm villa; and if father liked to take to study instead of being a great Roman general and senator, it's not for you, Serge, to find fault with what it pleases him to do."
"Right, boy! Spoken like your father's son. It was only one of my growls. I don't mind. He's one of the finest men that ever stepped, and what he says is right. But you and me, we don't want him to let these young ragamuffins off without loosening their skins a bit to do them good, do we?"
"No!" cried the boy, joyously, as he showed his white teeth. "I say, Serge, I feel rested now, and I want to give it to them for knocking me about as they did. The rascally young plebs! The cowards! Six to one! I believe they'd have half killed me if they had got me down."
"That they would, Marcus, my boy," cried the old soldier, gazing at him proudly. "But come on, I'll show you the way, and Lupe and I will look on and see that they fight fair, while we guard you flank and rear. Old Lupe shall be ready to scatter their mothers, if they hear that we have the young rascals fast. No women will interfere if old Lupe begins to show his teeth."
The man and boy exchanged glances, and, as the former struck his staff down heavily upon the earth in advancing towards the great, rough door of the building, the latter's fists clenched involuntarily, and the dog pricked up his ears and uttered a low sigh.
The next minute a big, rough, hairy hand was raised to the cross-bar which secured the door, and, at the first touch, there was a low, rustling sound within the building.
Serge and Marcus exchanged glances again, while the dog crouched as if about to spring.
Directly after, the bar was loosened, and fell with a clang, the door was dragged open from within, and the prisoners made a simultaneous rush to escape, but only to fall back with a despairing yell, for the great dog bounded at them, and the old soldier and his young master closed in, to fill up the door and step forward.
"Stop outside, Lupe, my lad," said the old soldier, quietly; and the dog turned back to his former position and crouched once more, while the door was shut from the inside,