"Sheep, by the wings of Mercury!" he shouted. "Dismount, fellows! Here's for a feast this night and an offering to Mars to-morrow!"
The ten in brazen armor threw themselves from their horses with the enthusiasm of boys and spread a panic of whooping and of waving arms about the startled flock. The young shepherd, too long a fugitive from the encroachments of this same army to misunderstand the nature of the attack, ran into the thick of the shouting Romans. His valiant dog with exposed teeth flew straight at the nearest legionary.
"Cerberus!" the soldier howled, dodging. "Your pike, Paulus! Quick! By Hector, it is a wolf!"
But the quickest soldier would not have been quick enough to elude the enraged beast had not the shepherd with a spring and a warning cry seized his dog by the ears and stopped him mid-bound.
"Down, Urge!" he cried. "Take away your men!" he shouted to the decurion. "I can not hold him long."
"Only so long," Paulus growled, raising his pike over the snarling dog.
"Drop it!" the decurion ordered him peremptorily. "We are ten to one and a dog. No blood-letting this day. It is Titus' order. Boy, get you gone; these sheep are confiscate."
"I have been told they are only common stock," the boy remonstrated gravely, "but you may be right. Howbeit, they are not mine and I can not leave them."
"You have been misinformed," the decurion said gravely, while his men, circling around the growling dog, went on with their work. "These are Roman sheep, with the Flavian coat of arms and the mark of the army in black on their hides–if you shear them. But if you make away as fast as you can I shall not tell Titus which way you went."
The sheep had started pell-mell toward the Roman road. The decurion turned back to his horse. The shepherd released his dog, which ran after the flock, and stepped into the decurion's way.