"Who are these, Rufinus?" he demanded of the under-officer. "A barbarian chief and warriors from the villages of the western shore," replied Rufinus. "They bring two prisoners that they captured in the Rupes Flumen. As a reward they wish permission to enter the city and see the Emperor." "How many are they?" asked the officer. "Sixty," replied Rufinus. "They may enter the city," said the officer. "I will give them a pass, but they must leave their weapons in their canoes and be out of the city before dark. Send two men with them. As to their seeing Validus Augustus, that I cannot arrange. They might go to the palace and ask the praefect there. Have the prisoners come ashore." As von Harben and Gabula stepped from the dugout, the expression upon the officer's face was one of perplexity. "Who are you?" he demanded. "My name is Erich von Harben," replied the prisoner. The officer jerked his head impatiently. "There is no such family in Castra Sanguinarius," he retorted. "I am not from Castra Sanguinarius." "Not from Castra Sanguinarius!" The officer laughed. "That is the story he told me," said the black chief, who had been listening to the conversation. "I suppose that he will be saying next that he is not a citizen of Rome," said the officer. "That is just what he does say," said the chief. "But wait," exclaimed the officer, excitedly. "Perhaps you are indeed from Rome herself!" "No, I am not from Rome," von Harben assured him. "Can it be that there are white barbarians in Africa!" exclaimed the officer. "Surely your garments are not Roman. Yes, you must be a barbarian unless, as I suspect, you are not telling me the truth and you are indeed from Castra Sanguinarius." "A spy, perhaps," suggested Rufinus. "No," said von Harben. "I am no spy nor am I an enemy," and with a smile, "I am a barbarian, but a friendly barbarian." "And who is this man?" asked the officer, indicating Gabula. "Your slave?" "He is my servant, but not a slave." "Come with me," directed the officer. "I should like to talk with you, I find you interesting, though I do not believe you." Von Harben smiled. "I do not blame you," he said, "for even though I see you before me I can scarcely believe that you exist." "I do not understand what you mean," said the officer, "but come with me to my quarters." He gave orders that Gabula was to be confined in the guardhouse temporarily, and then he led von Harben back to one of the towers that guarded the entrance to the rampart. The gate lay in a vertical plane at right angles to the rampart with a high tower at either side, the rampart curving inward at this point to connect with the tower at the inner end of the gate. This made a curved entrance that forced an enemy attempting to enter to disclose its right or unprotected side to the defenders upon the rampart, a form of camp fortification that von Harben knew had been peculiar to the ancient Romans.