There was the heavy tramp, tramp of armed men, followed by the sudden rush and thunder of hoofs, while where he stood there was the rattle of the chariot wheels and the cries of the drivers as they urged their horses on.
“How are you, boy?” said Serge, hoarsely, with his lips close to his young master’s ear.
“Oh, I’m well enough,” was the reply, “but I can’t see. I want to know what we are going to do.”
“Don’t you want to lie down and have a sleep?” said Serge, grimly.
“Sleep? No! I want to understand what’s going on.”
“What for?” growled Serge. “What’s it got to do with you?”
“What has it got to do with me?” cried Marcus, without turning his head.
“Yes; what’s it got to do with you? That’s the captain’s business. We are advancing slowly, and by and by when the enemy has passed through our cavalry, and delivered its attack upon our foot, and they are coming on—I can hear them hurrah, boy! This isn’t a false alarm. Hear that shouting?”
“Hear it, yes!”
“That’s the enemy, and they are very strong too.”