He drew out a flask of ration wine, closely akin to vinegar, of which he hospitably gave us each a cup, and after pouring a libation to his hero’s memory, whom he evidently placed among his gods, swallowed the draft, in which we devoutly followed his example. “Yet,” said the beggar, “if Antony was a great man, he has left little men enough behind him. There’s, for instance, the present gay procurator—six months in the gout, the other six months drunk, or if sober only thinking where he can rob next. This will bring the government into trouble before long, or I’m much mistaken. For my part, I pledge myself if he should take any part of my property——” “Why, if he did,” said the Syrian, “I give him credit for magic. He could find a crop of wheat in the sand or coin money out of the air. Where does your estate lie?” “Comrade,” said the veteran, laughing, “recollect; if the saying be true that people are least to be judged of by the outside, the rags of our jovial friend must hide many a shekel; and as to where his estate lies, he has a wide estate who has the world for his portion, and money enough who thinks all his own that he can lay his fingers on.” The laugh was now loud against the beggar. He, however, bore all, like one accustomed to the buffets of fortune, and, joining in it, said: [Sidenote: Dreams of Beggars] “Whatever may be my talents in that way, there is no great chance of showing them in this company; but if you should be present at the sack of Masada, and I should meet you on your way back——” “Masada!” exclaimed I instinctively. “Yes, I left the town three days ago. On that very morning an order arrived to prepare for the coming of the great and good Florus, who in his wisdom, feeling the want of gold, has determined to fill up the hollows of the military chest and his own purse by stripping the armory of everything that can sell for money. My intelligence is from the best authority. The governor’s principal bath-slave told it to one of the damsels of the steward’s department, with whom the Ethiopian is mortally in love, and the damsel, in a moment of confidence, told it to me. In fact, to let you into _my_ secret, I am now looking out for Florus, in whose train I intend to make my way back into this gold-mine.” “The villain!” cried the veteran; “disturb the arms of the dead! Why, they say that it has the very corselet and buckler that Mark Antony wore when he marched against the Idumeans.” “I fear more the disturbance of the arms of the living,” said the Syrian; “the Jews will take it for granted that the Romans are giving up the business in despair, and if I’m a true man, there will be blood before I get home.”