“Yes, boy, I do,” roared the old soldier, looking as fierce now as one of the campagna bulls, whose bellow he seemed to emulate, “and I’ll make you obey them too.”
“Commands—obey—when I’m only going to join him?”
“Yes, that’s it, my lad. So now then!”
“Yes,” cried Marcus, giving his companion a fierce thrust which forced him a little back so that he caught his heels against a projecting stone, and as he tried to recover himself was brought down by Marcus upon his knees. “Hah!” he cried. “I’ve got you! What have you got to say about my father’s orders? What are you doing here?”
Chapter Fourteen.
Coming to Terms.
Serge was in the act of gathering himself together so as to spring up and catch his prisoner by the arms, but, as the boy questioned him sharply he sank a little lower upon his knees, and, as if all the strength had been suddenly discharged from within him, he said in quite a different tone of voice:
“What am I doing here?”