"Steady, steady!" cried Serge to the driver. "Mind that great block."
For as they tore on, with more and more traces of an engagement teaching
them that they were going right, the driver seemed to be sending the
fiery little pair he drove straight for a low mass of stone, contact
with which must have meant wreck.
Startled by the old soldier's angry shout, the driver drew one rein
sharply, making the ponies swerve right for another far more dangerous
obstacle and but for Marcus' readiness in snatching at the other rein, a
worse mishap would have occurred.
They were saved from this, but the shouts had scared the fiery little
steeds, sending them dashing frantically off in quite a fresh direction,
while to Marcus' horror, he saw that it was into another danger in the
shape of a vast body of the enemy who, as the flying ponies drew near,
sprang to their feet from where they were lying behind a ridge.
Getting the ponies once more well in hand, the driver, who saw nothing
but death for himself if they were taken, wrenched the heads of the pair
round once more, just when they seemed about to plunge into the thick
ranks of the enemy, along whose front they tore in the intent of
sweeping round their line.
But the hope was vain, for another body of men came into sight, rising
from the earth where they had been lying, to form up at right angles to
the first body, and once more the direction of the chariot had to be
changed, then altered again and again, for to Marcus' horror foes sprang
up in every direction they took, the country seeming alive with the
enemy, and all prospect of getting through them and continuing their
dash for the Roman army at an end.
"What's to be done, Serge?" cried the boy, at last.
"Steady the ponies and let them get their wind again."
This was done, the gallop being turned into a gentle trot and from that
into a walk, while the fugitives watched the slow, steady advance of the
barbarians, who in their way, in spite of the name they received,
appeared to be nearly as civilised as the Romans themselves.
Their intent now seemed to be to make sure of the capture of the chariot
and its occupants as they kept on closing up and gradually narrowing the
extent of the open plain about which the galloping evolutions had taken
place.
"It's just as if they knew that we were the bearers of an important
message, Serge," said Marcus.
"Seems like it, boy, but it is not," was the reply. "We're enemies and
invaders on their lands, and they mean to take us at all costs. It
looks bad too."
"What does?" said Marcus, sharply.
"The country being up like this. It looks bad for our army, boy. I'm
beginning to think that Julius has had to fight every step of the way he
has come, and if our message was not what it is I should say it was our
soldierly duty to give up attempting to get through with it."
"What!" cried Marcus, with a look of horror, as he turned from watching
the approaching enemy spreading out more and more over the open plain.
"I said if it wasn't what it is," said Serge, quietly.
"But you wouldn't give up, Serge, come what may?"
"Do I look the sort of man to give up when I have work to do?"
"No, no," cried Marcus, warmly. "It was wrong of me to think it even
for a moment. But now, Serge, our way lies away to the left."
"No, boy; I've been watching every turn we took, and if we kept on as we
are now we should about be in the line our army took."
"Then we must make a brave dash now and with lowered spears gallop right
through them."
"And come down before we were half through their line, boy."
"Oh, don't oppose what seems to be the only plan, Serge!" cried the boy,
appealingly.
"I oppose it because it means being killed or taken prisoners."
"Then what can we do?" cried Marcus.
"I'll tell you what's best, boy," said the old soldier, thoughtfully.
"They're a long way off us, both in front and on the left."
"Ah, try and trick them?" cried Marcus. "I know!"
"That's right, then, boy," said Serge, with a smile. "How would you do
it?"
"Why like this," cried Marcus, excitedly--"Pull up!" he cried to the
driver.
The man obeyed, and the ponies stopped short, looking full of go, but
with their sides marked heavily with sweat and foam.
"Now," cried Marcus, laying down his spear and leaping out of the
chariot, "out with you both. Lie down, Lupe! Quiet, sir!"
The driver and Serge sprang from their places and followed Marcus to the
heads of their steeds, to begin patting and caressing them in the full
sight of the army.
"Now," continued Marcus, "you get back into the car," and the driver
stepped into his place.
"Take hold of the reins and hold them ready, but sit down as if your
work was done. You, Serge, lead one pony; I'll lead the other, and
we'll walk them slowly towards the enemy away here to the left."
"So as to let them think we have given up trying to escape, and are
going to surrender?" said Serge, quickly. "Well done, boy! That's just
about what I was going to say."
"Then," continued Marcus, "when we have slowly walked the ponies as near
to the enemy as we dare, resting them all the while, I'll give the word
to gallop off, and as the ponies are turned we two spring into the
chariot as it passes, and we'll tear away for liberty. No stopping this
time, but use our spears."
"That's right," said Serge, rubbing his hands softly; "and I think they
will be so taken by surprise that we shall get through; and if we
don't--"
"Well, Serge, finish what you were going to say," said Marcus, sadly.
"It will be because it couldn't be done."
"But it must be done."
Just then a faint burst of cheering came to the adventurers' ears and
began to run along the line upon their left, towards which they now
began to move at a walk.
The next instant it was taken up in front to their right and rear.
"They think we've surrendered, Marcus, boy," said Serge, with a chuckle.
"Here, do as I do; take off your helmet and pitch it into the chariot.
It will look better."
Marcus followed his companion's example, and leading the ponies, the
adventurers advanced slowly towards the enemy on their left, still about
a quarter of a mile away, and Marcus had the satisfaction of seeing that
the men had all halted, and those on the left were awaiting their
approach, while all ideas of order or discipline were at an end, the
lines breaking up and becoming so many loose crowds of armed men,
instead of roughly-formed Greek-like phalanxes ready for action.
Those were exciting moments, and as the time neared for giving the order
for action, Marcus' heart did not fail, for it beat as strongly as ever,
but a feeling of doubt began to grow as he glanced along the line of the
army he was approaching, and then at the loose mass standing or moving
about at right angles, and thought how impossible it would be to dash
through them.
At last, when the chariot was about fifty yards from the line, and a
couple of the enemy who seemed to be leaders stepped forward as if to
take their weapons, Marcus, without turning his head, whispered softly:
"Ready, Serge?"
"Ready!" was the reply.
"Then drop your rein when I say _Now_. You, driver, turn their heads at
the same moment and gallop away."
For answer the charioteer gathered up the reins a little, when, startled
at the touch, the ponies threw up their heads.
What followed looked so natural upon the movement of the steeds that
when Marcus gave the word, and he and Serge stepped back together it
seemed to the enemy as if the horses had snatched the reins from their
hands, and when the chariot was turned rapidly, to dash off, the actions
of Marcus and Serge in catching at the sides and swinging themselves in
were looked upon as attempts to help the driver check the endeavours of
a restive pair of horses which had taken fright and galloped away at
full speed.
Consequently a burst of laughter arose, to travel down the line, every
man watching the progress of the supposed runaways with delight, while
the body of men, now a disorderly crowd, instead of taking the alarm and
closing up with presented spears to receive and impale the runaways,
caught the contagion of laughter and separated, tumbling over one
another in their haste to escape the expected shock, and leaving a wide
opening through which the horses tore, urged to their utmost speed by
their driver's excited cries.
Seeing this, Marcus shouted to Serge, who was ready with the spears and
holding out one to Marcus.
"No, no," he cried, and seeing no danger he bent over the front of the
chariot, making believe to snatch at the reins, and grasping his idea
Serge seemed to be seconding his efforts as they tore by, and it was not
until the last of the enemy was left behind that any attempt was made to
follow, while even then the idea that it was a ruse went home but
slowly.
"Hurrah!" said Marcus, softly, for he did not dare to shout. "They may
think what they like now; we have got the start and ought to be able to
drive clear away for the army again, eh, Serge?"
"I hope so, boy, but after what I've seen I'm afraid that the passage of
our army has roused up the whole country, and that we shall be meeting
enemies every step of the way."
"Oh, don't say disheartening things after this escape, Serge," cried the
boy, excitedly. "That's right, lad; keep them going for a bit longer,
and then steady down again to give them breath. Look at the beautiful
beasts, Serge. I wish we were mounted upon them, instead of letting
them drag this heavy chariot."
"I'm looking at the enemy, my boy," cried Serge. "They don't seem to
know the truth yet, but scores of them are coming after us at a run. I
don't think they'll catch us though, for we are going four feet to their
one."
"Yes, but we must not distress the horses. Steady! Steady! An easy
gallop now. That's better. A quarter of an hour like this, and we can
laugh at them, unless old Serge is right and enemies are ready to spring
up everywhere in our way."
"Ah!" shouted Serge, at that moment, and the ponies took his cry to mean
faster, and increased their speed. "No, no," he cried. "Steady,
steady! Look, Marcus, boy, we are going right," and the old soldier
pointed to another of the grim traces of war in the shape of an
overturned chariot, with the skeletons of the horses that had drawn it
looking ghastly and strangely suggestive of what might have been their
fate, or might happen even yet.
Before long the crowded together lines of the enemy began to grow more
and more confused; then the idea of distance manifested itself more and
more, and those who had pursued melted away into the main body, while
the gallant little steeds, whose pace had been slackened down into a
steady hand gallop, were eased more and more, to proceed at a gentle
trot such as they could easily keep up, till they were checked in the
midst of a green slope that ran along by a pine wood, pleasant
indications of the mountain land being left behind.
Here a clear cool stream ran prattling along, towards which the ponies
stretched out their necks and were allowed to drink, their example being
followed by those they had drawn, a short distance higher up, and Marcus
rose looking eager and refreshed.
"We shall do it, Serge," he cried; "but I have seen no signs lately of
the army having passed this way. Have you?"
Serge gave him a peculiar look.
"Yes," he said, roughly; "there has been fighting just yonder, if you
look for it; but don't, boy. I want to get on gently again, and to find
some sign of a farm, or peasants' hut. We must have food of some kind
if we are to do our work. Let's get a little farther on, and then I
must forage."
"Yes," said Marcus, sadly. "It seems waste of time, but it must be
done, I suppose. But why not let the ponies browse a little here? See,
they have already begun."
"Because it will be of no use for us to look about here."
"Of course not," said Marcus, hastily, and he stood looking hurriedly
round, to see for the first time that all along the edge of the forest
which should have been bordered with fresh green bushes, was broken down
and trampled, while not far from where he stood fire had been doing its
work, and a large portion was blackened stump and skeleton-like stem.