Drusus he naturally expected would come from the south, toward Praeneste.

And thence every moment he trembled lest Dumnorix's gang should appear in sight.

But every distant dust-cloud for a long time resolved itself sooner or later into a shepherd with a flock of unruly sheep, or a wagon tugged by a pair of mules and containing a single huge wine-skin.

Drusus came not; Dumnorix came not.

Agias grew weary of watching, and climbed painfully down from the stool to eat his raw porridge.