"I thank thee, Donar," cried Rignomer cheerily. "What do I care for the Romans' victory? I'm going home soon. Hark ye, fellow, the clever fortune-teller pleases me. Will you sell her?"
The Sarmatian looked thoughtful. The question was evidently unexpected. "Not willingly--not cheaply--" he said hesitatingly, wishing to gain time for reflection. "I live by her tricks even more than by my own."
"You are right, Rignomer," Brinno observed. "It's often very dull in camp when we're not on duty. She would amuse us."
"And I'd like to startle the Romans, the proud legionaries who look down scornfully upon us auxiliaries, but always send us to the bloodiest posts in battle."
"I suppose the creature came from these forests?" asked Brinno.
The juggler nodded.
"Aha," cried Rignomer, laughing, "then we must have her. We'll take her to little Bissula: the brown German to the red one."
"Who is Bissula?" drawled the juggler.
"The most charming girl I ever saw," cried Brinno quickly.
"Yes! Every one who sees her is fond of her," Rignomer went on.