Marcus: the Young Centurion Part 40

This done, Serge placed his spear in the loops and Marcus' beside it, before sinking down upon his knees on the other side of the wounded dog.

"Now then," he said, "let's see whether it's very bad or not," and he laid his great hand upon the dog's head.

Lupe ceased the licking upon the instant, and raised his head to gaze intelligently in the old soldier's eyes.

"Good dog!" said the latter, speaking with gruff gentleness. "I won't hurt you more than I can help."

As if he comprehended the old soldier's words and placed full confidence in his knowledge and power, Lupe stretched himself out fully upon his left side, extended his head, and, half closing his eyes, lay perfectly still as if dead.

"Poor old Lupe!" said Marcus, softly, and he took hold of the dog's right forepaw, with the result that the poor animal winced, but only whined a little and did not try to withdraw his leg, but at the same time began again to beat the floor of the chariot with his tail, keeping up the latter, as Serge carefully examined the injury.

"Nasty place!" growled Serge.

"Not dangerous?" cried Marcus, anxiously.

"Dangerous? No, not it. He had got himself into the right position when the spear thrust was made. It's bad enough, of course--"

"Oh, Serge!" cried Marcus.

"But there's no likelihood of its being dangerous. The spear caught him on the flank and went right in alongside his ribs, from the thick hair above his shoulder right away to the front of his hind jumper."

"Deep in the flesh, Serge?"

"No, no; only just under the loose skin."

"Has it bled much?" said Marcus, anxiously.

"Plenty, my lad, but he won't die of it. Do you hear, Lupe, old boy?

Your doctor says he is not going to do anything in the way of tying you up, for this is the sort of wound that has done bleeding and will heal up without any more help than you can give it with your tongue; so go on and do what you like to it, just the same as you began when you were stopped."

The dog ceased beating the floor of the chariot as Serge went on talking to him, and as soon as the old soldier had given him a final pat or two he resumed the application of Nature's remedy, paying no heed to those in the chariot, which was now rolling steadily on and leaving the scene of the late encounter farther and farther behind.

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX.

IN THE TRACK OF AN ARMY.

It was not easy to quiet down the half wild steeds. They had been going through a long period of inaction since the fierce charge made on the night of the encounter before crossing the snowy pa.s.s, and once their driver had, to use the horsey phrase, given them their heads, and urged them on to their top speed, their hot, wild blood had been bubbling through their veins, making them snort and tear along heedless of rock, rut, and the roughest ground. Marcus had told the driver to check them twice over, but as soon as Lupe was in the chariot and both Marcus and Serge busy seeing to his wound, the speed began to increase, till the chariot was b.u.mping over the open plain faster than ever; and though the charioteer strove his best it was some time before he managed to get his little pair into hand again so that the pace grew moderate and the progress was made at a gentle canter, instead of a wild gallop which threatened wreck over some projecting stone.

"They were half mad with excitement," cried Marcus, who was breathing hard.

"Yes," grunted Serge. "I thought we were going to be upset over and over again. Feel a bit frightened, boy?"

"Frightened?" said Marcus, looking wonderingly at his companion. "No!

I liked it. Why, it was glorious to rush over the plain like that."

"Wouldn't have been very glorious if one wheel had come b.u.mp against a stone, flown all to pieces, and we two had gone flying one way and the chariot the other."

"No," said Marcus, laughing; "but that wheel did not, and we are all as right as can be, with the enemy left behind."

"Yes, that's all very true, boy," said Serge, who was pressing his helmet a little farther back and holding it there so that he could get a good uninterrupted look all round.

"You didn't like it, then?" said Marcus, smiling at his companion's perplexed expression.

"Course I didn't," growled Serge.

"Lupe did. Just look at him. He has curled himself up to go to sleep.

That's a good sign, isn't it, that he is not badly hurt?"

"Yes, he's not going to be bad," said Serge, without so much as a glance at the sleeping animal. "Dogs always do curl up when they are hurt;"

and he kept on staring anxiously ahead.

"What are you looking for, Serge? More enemies?" asked Marcus.

"No," replied the old soldier, though it was more like a grunt than a reply.

"What are you watching for, then? Not stones? It's getting smoother, and we're going on at a nice steady rate now."

"Yes, boy, we're going along at a nice steady rate, but I want to know where to?"

"Where to?" cried Marcus, quickly. "Why, to find the main army, and deliver the message."

"Yes, boy," growled the old soldier; "but where is the main army?"

Marcus stared at his companion for a few moments in complete astonishment, before gazing straight in front between the tossing manes of the cantering ponies, and then looked to right and left.

"I don't know," he said, at last. "Somewhere in front, I suppose."

"Somewhere in front, you suppose!" grumbled Serge. "But where's that?

Nowhere, I say. We shall never come up with them if we go on like this.

We may be getting farther away at every stride."

"Oh, Serge!" cried the boy, excitedly.

"And it's O, Marcus!" growled the old fellow, sourly.

"What's to be done Serge?" cried the boy, despairingly. "Why, we may be losing time."

"Most likely," said Serge.

"And I was thinking that in flying along as we have been we were getting nearer and nearer to the army. Now, then, what is to be done?"

Serge was silent for a few moments, and then said slowly:

"Well, boy, it seems to me that the best thing we can do is to bear off to the right."

"But that may take us wrong," said Marcus, excitedly. "Why not go to the left?"