The Childhood of Rome

by Louise Lamprey

For hours they herded the tired flock up and down, among hills and gullies, until they came on a little hollow among bushes, out of the way of the water, where they could stop and get a little sleep. The man and the boys were all three wet, cold and hungry, even hungrier than the sheep were, for they could not eat grass; hungrier than Pincho, who now and then caught some sort of wild creature and ate it on the spot. They ate what little they had left, and then one kept watch while the others slept, by turns, in the driest place that could be found.

When it was light enough to see, they looked about to find out where they were. Farther down the slope and to one side of them was a village, and the people there kept sheep and also cattle. Nobody seemed to be doing much [pg 57]work, for half the men were standing about talking, and the shrill note of a flute player came up the hill as if it were a signal.

The boys did not know what this meant, for they had never been near a village on a holiday,—and not often at any time. But the shepherd knew; he knew that it must be a feast day, and he told the boys that if they wished to go to the village and see what was going on, he would look after the sheep. They must not try to go in unless they were asked, and they ought not to take Pincho; some one might see him and kill him for a wolf, not knowing that he was tame.

But Pincho had something to say about that. He had no intention of being left behind, and the shepherd had to cut a thong off his sheepskin cloak to tie up the determined beast. Then when the boys were about two-thirds of the way to the village, something came sniffing at their heels, and there was Pincho, with the thong trailing after him; he had gnawed it in two.

His young master only laughed. “Here, Pincho!” he said good-humoredly, and as the young wolf came and licked his hand he made a loop of the trailing end and thrust his strong brown fingers into it. And so they came up to the edge of the village where the people were making ready the feast,—two boys and a wolf.

The lads were both rather tall for their years, and moved with the wild grace of creatures that constantly use every muscle and never get stiff or lazy. They wore only the shepherd’s tunic of sheepskin with the wool outward, and a braided leather girdle to hold a knife and a leather pouch. In his left hand each held a crook, with a sharp flint point at the other end so that it could be used as a spear if a weapon were needed. The taller led the wolf, which fawned and licked his bare feet; the other, who was not quite so dark of hair and eye, was playing on a reed pipe, taking up the call of the pipers and weaving it into a simple melody. For a moment the people did not know who they could be. All the shepherd boys in that neighborhood were known. Surely only gods come out of the forest would be accompanied by a wolf.

They did not enter the village. They halted on the outside where they could look into the square and see what was going on, and they stared in silent wonder, like animals.

The fact was that they were so hungry that if they had dared, they would have rushed on the tables and seized the bread and meat and honey cakes, and run away into the forest to devour them as if they were wolves themselves. As it was, the intelligent nose of Pincho caught the [pg 61]maddening odor of meat, and it was all his master could do to hold him.

Whoever they were, it was proper at this time to offer food to strangers.