Marcus: the Young Centurion Part 30

"Sleep!" cried Marcus, mockingly. "Who's to sleep at a time like this?"

"A soldier, of course, and be glad to when he gets the chance."

"Oh, I couldn't sleep," cried Marcus. "I feel all bubbling over with excitement, and if I were to lie down I should seem to be galloping over the fields again."

"Nonsense! You lie down and have a sleep. You always used to mind what I said when I tried to teach you. Do so now, and get some rest."

"But suppose they come back and attack us again?"

"Well, we shall have warning. There are scouts and sentries out in all directions, and you would have plenty of time to get up into the chariot, I dare say. There, lie down."

"Don't you order me, Serge," said the boy, peevishly. "You are not my officer."

"No, we are only comrades, and I am not ordering, only telling you for the best. There, get a sleep, boy, while you can."

"Well, I'll lie down, but I can't sleep, Serge. I shall be thinking about the war, and the tribes that are coming to attack us, all the night."

"Very well, boy, think about them, then, as you are so anxious to understand all about the war. I'd be sure and call you when you are wanted. I am not greedy about having all the fighting to myself. You shall have your share."

"Very well," said Marcus, and selecting a place that seemed a little less hard than the stony ground in their close neighbourhood, and where he was not likely to be trampled upon by any of the chariot horses, he threw himself down, but started up again in alarm with his hand seeking his sword, for a big lump of stone dimly-seen in the darkness suddenly seemed endowed with life, springing up to give itself a rough shake, and a.s.suming the form of a big dog.

"Why, Lupe, you here?" cried Marcus, laughing. "Look here, Serge; he was lying here curled up, asleep. Where's he been all the time?"

"Taking care of himself and waiting for us to come back, I suppose.

There, do you want a lesson in campaigning, boy?"

"No, not to-night, thank you. You said I was to go to sleep."

"Of course; and here's your lesson all the same. Make Lupe lie down, and use him for a warm, dry pillow. Not a bad thing at a time like this. A deal better than a horse, for it isn't always you can get them to lie down, and a horse's hoofs are rather bad company if he gets restless in the night."

Half irritably in his exalted state Marcus turned away with a gesture of annoyance.

"Down, Lupe! Lie down!" growled the old soldier; and as the dog obediently subsided on the rough ground, the boy thought better of it, sank upon his knees, and then awkwardly in his armour adjusted himself so that he could lay his face with his cheek in the rough hair about the dog's neck.

There was something comforting and friendly in the deep, satisfied sigh Lupe gave, holding quite rigid as he stretched himself out, while Marcus said to himself:

"Oh, this is stupid! I shall never go to sleep like this;" and he lay staring right before him at the indistinctly seen chariot with its pair of horses standing together, one or the other every now and then giving an impatient stamp or whinnying softly.

Beyond them and their driver all was dark confusion, out of which came murmurs of voices, the jingling of armour, and a suggestion of people pa.s.sing to and fro.

And then the darkness seemed to lighten and horses were tearing along at full gallop with the enemy in front, and Marcus gave a sudden start, his sharp movement producing a low remonstrant growl from his pillow.

"What was that?" thought Marcus. "Why, I must have been asleep. Ah, there it is again!" For from somewhere out of the darkness there came a low agonised cry which made the boy sit up and listen.

"Are you there, Serge?" he said, softly.

"Yes. What is it, boy?" came from the back of the chariot, where the old soldier had seated himself; and he rose at once and crossed the few yards which lay between him and his young companion's resting place.

"Did you hear that?" asked Marcus.

"Oh, yes, I heard it, boy."

"What was it?"

"A wounded man. They have been carrying some in from over yonder."

"How horrible!" whispered the boy. "Let's go and help him."

"No, go to sleep. You can do nothing there."

"Sleep!" cried the boy, reproachfully. "Who can sleep with anyone suffering like that?"

"You," said Serge, quietly. "You have been asleep an hour, and of course there have been plenty of poor fellows carried by, enemies and friends."

"But--" began Marcus.

"Go to sleep again, boy. You can do nothing there. We'd go together if we could help."

Marcus was silent as he lay resting on one hand, listening and thinking what it was his duty to do, but listening in vain, for no such sound again broke the silence of the night, while after standing by him a few minutes, Serge walked away into the darkness and then returned to his seat in the chariot, where he too, utterly devoid of all inclination to sleep, sat and thought about their position there and asked himself whether it was yet too late to reverse their plans, and seeking the first opportunity to hurry his young companion away from the scenes of carnage and the dangers by which they were surrounded.

"I have done wrong all along," he muttered to himself. "I went against my orders, and some day I shall have to face the master and answer for myself. Yes," he muttered, "I must take him back." And with the full intention, as he sat there leaning his left shoulder against the side of the chariot, of leaving the little rear-guard of the army as soon as he could, Serge changed his position to the other side of the chariot to rest his right side, and as he subsided against the hard iron-bound wood, listening for danger, the galloping-in of scouts, or some other warning of another night attack, a fresh current of thoughts began to chase each other through his brain.

"No," he said, "I won't go, and if I would he'd say again that he wouldn't come. He's a soldier's son, and it comes natural to him. What am I growling at myself for? I didn't set him to run away. He came of himself, and if I hadn't done the same he'd have been here all alone without me to watch over him, take his part, and help him, same as he did me when I was attacked. Why, after all, everything's gone right and happened as it should. We are in for it, and must go on. But this won't do; I mustn't go to sleep." And springing up, the old soldier took a few steps up and down like a sentry, before stopping short and going down on one knee, steadying himself the while by means of his spear, and bending over Marcus, who was sleeping heavily, his breath coming regularly as he lay there deaf to everything that was going on around, while the dog uttered a low whine and lifted his heavy tail slowly, to beat with it softly upon the ground.

"He's all right," said Serge, and he backed away again, to march up to the horses, pat them, and then say a word or two to their driver, who was lying upon his back just in front, sleeping heavily and quite unconscious of Serge's presence.

The latter took another turn or two up and down, thinking deeply the while.

"Yes," he said softly, "what I told the boy's about right, and I can tell him some more to-morrow, for out here in the darkness and silence all my old soldiering seems to be coming back. We are a sort of rear-guard, that's what we are, and it's our job to keep some miles behind the main army, to prevent the enemy from closing in and hara.s.sing our troops, besides seeing that they carry out the general's orders and bring up the food and forage they as a conquered people are ordered to supply. Conquered people!" he said, with a contemptuous e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n.

"Why, it's like digging a channel through a bed of dry sand. I know what this country is. If we go on like this for a few days we shall be right in amongst the mountains, full of holes and hiding-places where the enemy can lurk, and as fast as they are driven off they will be like dry sand, as I said, and come running back again."

Serge went and bent over Marcus again to satisfy himself that the boy was sleeping deeply, and uttered a low grunt that might have been learned of the swine he tended at the farm.

"Do him no end of good," he muttered--"strengthen his legs." And he began to walk up and down again, pausing once or twice to pat the horses and growl at the driver, who was sleeping hard with his mouth wide open.

"Yes," muttered the old soldier, "a good sleep will do the boy good-- harden his legs. I said my old soldiering was coming back; I wish my old legs would come back and be the same as they used to when I could walk for weeks, instead of aching like this when I haven't had to walk, but have been riding all day. Hah!" he sighed, as he lowered himself down into the back of the chariot to lean against the side once more.

"I can keep watch over him just as well sitting down as standing up. I don't see that I need watch at all when the boy's got a pillow with a set of teeth like a rat trap that will take fast hold of anyone who came to interfere with him. But there's the master. We have got to meet some day, and I shall have to give an account of myself. 'What were you doing away from the farm?' he'll say. 'Watching over your boy, master,'

says I. That will have him on the hip. That's my only chance, the only thing that will save me."

Serge's grim face relaxed, and he rolled about in his seat, chuckling softly.

"It will get me off," he said; "it will get me off with the master. He won't be very hard on me after that. It aren't quite honest, for I never thought a bit about the boy when I went away. But I did mean to take him back, and I'd have done it too, and stopped with him, only he was too much for me. Ah, he's a clever one. He's only a boy, but he's got a lot of man in him, and when he gets ripe, you mark my words," he said, softly, staring hard at the dimly-seen driver the while, "he'll be as big a man as his father. I don't mean as to size; like as not he'll be bigger. I mean as to his head. It aren't quite fair, and maybe it's a bit like deceiving the master to answer him like that when he says, 'What are you doing there?' and I says, 'Watching over your boy, master,' But I am going to watch over him, and I'll stick to him, and I'll die for him if I'm obliged; and you can't say that arn't honest."

Serge bent forward and literally glared at the sleeping driver, who muttered something in reply.

"Ah, you may say what you like," muttered Serge, "but that will be honest; and if you put that in one side of the balance, and my forsaking the old place when I was told to stay, in the other, they'll weigh pretty much alike. Yes, I'll watch over him, master, like a man, just as I would have done if he had been my own, for somehow I always seemed to like him, and I suppose I should have felt just about the same if he had been mine. It's precious dark and quiet enough now. I don't suppose we shall be disturbed before daylight, for the enemy got more than they expected, so I may just as well sit and rest. I can watch over him just the same, and--" Serge's next utterance was not understandable if treated as words, but perfectly plain if considered as a snore, for he had sunk sideways till his head rested on the hard edge of the car, while at regular intervals he gave vent to a series of deep gruff tones which sounded as if his neck were bent at such a severe angle that there was not room for his breath to pa.s.s comfortably round the corner.

It was not comfortable for him, for though he was sleeping very soundly, his rest was uneasy, consequent upon which he began to dream in a troubled way about being at home; and his busy brain put its own interpretation upon the sounds that rose from his chest and interfered with the soundness of his sleep, so that, half awakened, he lay back listening to his own snoring and attributed it to something else, gradually awakening more and more the while.