It is Titus' order. Boy, get you
gone; these sheep are confiscate."
"I have been told they are only common stock," the boy remonstrated
gravely, "but you may be right. Howbeit, they are not mine and I can
not leave them."
"You have been misinformed," the decurion said gravely, while his men,
circling around the growling dog, went on with their work. "These are
Roman sheep, with the Flavian coat of arms and the mark of the army in
black on their hides--if you shear them. But if you make away as fast
as you can I shall not tell Titus which way you went."
The sheep had started pell-mell toward the Roman road. The decurion
turned back to his horse. The shepherd released his dog, which ran
after the flock, and stepped into the decurion's way.
"However these sheep look when they are sheared," he said, "this seems
to be robbery to me."
"Robbery!" the good-natured decurion exclaimed. "This is but a
religious rite that Mercury got out of the cradle at two days to
establish. Only he took Apollo's cattle while we are contenting
ourselves with the sheep of mortal ownership. Robbery! What an
inelegant word!"
Meanwhile the stampeded sheep were making in a cloud of dust back over
the road toward the west from which the Romans had come.
"What shall I say to the citizens of Pella?" the little shepherd
shouted, pursuing the decurion who was making back to his horse as
fast as he could go.
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