grazing in the fields. It was such as these that Cincinnatus guided,
ploughing the fields, when the messenger rode swiftly from Rome to
call him to come and save her by becoming Dictator.

Lucius was a tiller of the fields, but, also, a water-carrier. He was
resting now, after his labors in the scorching sunshine, half-asleep.

The Moor roused him into wide wakefulness, by giving him a sturdy
kick.

"What art thou doing here, lazybones? Get thou to thy kennel, wherever
it may be, dog of a Christian, and do not dare to show thy face here
again."

"Dog of a Christian!" murmured Lucius, scrambling to his feet. "How
did you know?"

Alyrus caught the words.

"How did I know? When a creature such as thou singest thy wicked songs
in broad daylight, he must expect to be heard. A little more and thou,
too, wilt go to feed the lions and offer entertainment to the
thousands who are weary of other amusements and seek something new.
Turn pale, scarecrow, and tremble. Thy day will come, the day when
those and others--shall suffer. Ha! ha! it strikes home, doesn't it?
Thou fearest, eh? So much the better."

Lucius stood before him, a pitiable figure. His body, brown as an
Indian's, was bare almost to the waist. He wore only one garment, a
sort of a shirt, made from the skin of one of his own sheep. His legs