CHAPTER XXI.
How Ulamhala's Words Came True I The sentries were going their rounds; the camp-fires were burning low.
Over on the western hills bounding the Thessalian plain-land lingered the last bars of light.

It was oppressively warm, and man and beast were utterly fatigued.

Quintus Drusus stripped off his armour, and flung himself on the turf inside his tattered leather tent.

Vast had been the changes eighteen months of campaigning had made in him.

He had fought in Italy, in Spain, in the long blockade of the Pompeians at Dyrrachium.