He was covering his head with his arms and wailing.
"Little master!" called Ariston. "What is it? What has happened to us?"
"Oh, take me!" cried the little boy.
"Where are the others?" asked Ariston.
"They ran away," answered Caius. "They were afraid, Look! O-o-h!"
He pointed to the sky and screamed with terror.
Ariston looked. Behind the city lay a beautiful hill, green with trees.
But now from the flat top towered a huge, black cloud. It rose straight
like a pine tree and then spread its black branches over the heavens.
And from that cloud showered these hot, pelting pebbles of pumice stone.
"It is a volcano," cried Ariston.
He had seen one spouting fire as he had voyaged on the pirate ship.
"I want my father," wailed the little boy.
Then Ariston remembered that his master was away from home. He had gone
in a ship to Rome to get a great physician for his sick boy. He had left
Caius in the charge of his nurse, for the boy's mother was dead. But
now every slave had turned coward and had run away and left the little
master to die.
Ariston pulled the couch into one of the rooms. Here the roof kept off
the hail of stones.
"Your father is expected home to-day, master Caius," said the Greek. "He
will come. He never breaks his word. We will wait for him here.
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