With these words he turned away, mounted his horse and, followed by his escort, rode toward the left across the tilled land and meadows surrounding the dwelling to the entrance of the neighboring wood, where the helmets and spears of the next sentinels glittered brightly in the sunshine. But Herculanus had not been content with thoroughly searching the deserted house. He had also carefully examined the neighborhood for some trace of the vanished girl. He was soon unable to ride farther through the tangled underbrush; so, leaping from his horse, he gave his Mauritanian roan charger into the care of the only man he had permitted to accompany him, and glided on foot through the thicket. A sort of path which he had discovered with much difficulty and followed for some distance suddenly ended. While vainly searching for the stones and bits of wood which hitherto, though at long distances, had marked the direction of the way, he saw plainly in the marshy ground of the forest the imprint of human footsteps. And the people who had passed here were not Romans: the troops had never yet pressed so far eastward. Besides, the prints were not like those made by the seeker's own heavy Roman marching shoes: he intentionally trod lightly close beside the marks he had found, but how different was the track! His deep footprints instantly filled with the reddish-yellow marsh-water, which oozed from the ground at the least pressure. But within a short time some one had walked by here barefooted with a lighter tread. Indeed, not one person, but several. For besides one mark which seemed to belong to a child, always one step behind was a somewhat heavier and broader impression, and invariably at the right of it a narrow but deep little hole filled with water, as if made by the sharp end of a staff, while partly at the left, partly two paces in advance, a man's heavier tread seemed unmistakable. The Roman followed the footprints with eager zeal; if he did not find those whom he sought, he would have the credit of being the first to discover the direction in which the Barbarians had fled. Suddenly the traces appeared to vanish, in front of a large hawthorn bush which barred the way. From beneath the hand thrusting the thorns aside a little brown bird with a red breast flew up startled. Bending forward, the Roman peered into the bush, then a cry of glad surprise escaped his lips: "Aha! She passed here! She herself!" Slowly, slowly he drew through his hand a shining red-gold hair which had caught on a thorn: it was at least an ell long. And beyond the thorn-bush the footprints were again visible, even more distinctly than before, on a patch of damp sand. What seemed a child's footprints were made by her steps. CHAPTER XV.