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Marcus: The Young Centurion, a novel by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 16. The New Recruit |
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_ CHAPTER SIXTEEN. THE NEW RECRUIT The dog had been lying for hours watching the sleepers, who had lain perfectly unconscious of the presence of such a sentry and guardian, while he had crouched there with his muzzle almost touching Marcus' breast, pricking up his ears at the slightest sound made by some nocturnal food-seeking creature, and uttering a low sigh of content as he settled himself down again. Several times over he had heard some sound which he could not understand, and upon these occasions he sprang up, smothering the low growl that tried for exit, and seeming to understand the necessity for caution, he began to reconnoitre in the direction from which the suspicious noise had come. Had anybody been there to watch the dog, what they had seen would have excited wonder at the amount of reason that the animal displayed; not that Lupe, big wolf-hound, one of the kind kept by the peasantry in the far-back past for the protection of their flocks, was anything exceptional, for plenty of dogs at the present time are ready to display an instinct that is almost human. Point out some very human act, and there are plenty who will tell you either that it is the result of teaching, or that it has come naturally from the dog's long continued intercourse with man. One ventures to think that it is something more than teaching that makes a shut-out dog wait till he sees what he considers to be a suitable stranger whom he has never seen before, and then trot up to him and begin to gambol and lead him on till the gate or door is reached, stopping short then and saying as plainly as a dog can speak in barks--not the most expressive language in the world--Open it and let me in. Lupe was evidently a dog that could reason in his way, and attributing two of these interruptions of the night to the presence of wolves that had come prowling down from the hills, he set off cautiously, with the thick, dense hair bristling up about his neck, his armour against his deadly enemy's teeth, and his black gums retiring to display his trap-like jaws full of glistening ivory teeth. And all the time, in spite of his efforts, there was a low, deep sound like young thunder rumbling somewhere in his chest. But in each case, before he had gone far, Lupe's reason told him that his natural enemies did not come prowling down from the mountains during the soft summer nights, but waited till their hunger was sharpened by the frosts of winter, and that he was over-anxious regarding the safety of those he had come so far to find, judging rightly that the sounds he had heard and magnified were only caused by some innocent little animal which did not smell in the least like a wolf. So he trotted slowly back, making sounds suggestive of mutterings against his own stupidity, and dropped quietly down once more to watch. "Why, Serge," cried Marcus, "how could that dog manage to find us all this distance from home?" "I dunno," said the old soldier, stooping down to caress the savage-looking beast in his customary way, which was to bang him heavily on both shoulders with his great, horny hand, the blows given being such as would have made an ordinary dog howl; but their effect upon Lupe was to make him half close his eyes, open his wide jaws, and loll out his long, lambent tongue, which curled up at the end; and, as it quivered in the fresh morning light, he rolled over upon his back and began patting playfully at Serge's hand. "Don't knock him about like that, Serge," cried Marcus. "Knock him about?" cried the old soldier. "Why, he likes it; it loosens his skin and makes it fit easy, and knocks out the dust. How did he manage to find his way here? Ask him. I dunno. I left him at home, yelping about and uneasy like, looking as if he'd like to go at the general and tear his toga off his back." "I left him," cried Marcus, "hunting all over the place to find you. He came twice over into my room, whining and asking me where you were." "Did he?" cried Serge. "Good old dog!" And he gave the animal a few more of his tender caresses, with the result that the dog wriggled himself along snake-like fashion upon his spine, and then made a playful dab at his friend's hand. "I found him at last," continued Marcus, "in the press-house, and when I came away I shut him up." "What, to starve?" "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, flushing 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. The country's free for all, and if he chooses to follow us we are not to blame." "Well, that's right. Are you nearly ready?" "Yes," said Marcus, taking his helmet from where it rested in the fork of a young tree, and lowering it slowly upon his head. "Does it hurt?" said Serge. "Oh no, it feels quite comfortable now. Why?" "Because you put it on as if it were red hot. But give the word 'forward,' captain, and let's march. The first farm or house we come to we must halt and forage. My wallet's empty, and we want something very much better than water for our next meal." "Forward, then!" cried Marcus, and the dog responded with a volley of his deep barking, and bounded off before them, old Serge smiling grimly the while. "Got his nose straight for Rome," he said, with a laugh. "Why, if I was a general, Master Marcus, and going to lead our armies against the barbarians as won't let us alone but keep on attacking and wanting to come to plunder the riches of the place, and carry the Roman people off as slaves, do you know what I'd do?" "Beat them and drive them back, and make them slaves instead," replied Marcus. "Ah, but besides that, my lad, I'd get together an army of dogs like our Lupe, and set them to work to tear 'em down and chase 'em away." "Oh, barbarous!" cried Marcus, laughing. "Barbarous! Aren't they barbarians? Why, I don't believe you could manage it in a better way." _ |
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