"Forward, Wallada--quick! It is for life or death!"
They now issued from the grove into the open country. They reached the shore of the river.
Wachis was trying to urge his rearing steed into the dark flood. The animal shyed and resisted.
The freedman sprang off.
"It is very deep, very rapid," he said. "For three days the river has been unusually full. The ford is useless. The horses will have to swim, and the current will drag us far to the left. There are rocks in the stream, and the moonlight is so inconstant and deceptive."
He looked doubtfully and searchingly up and down the river.
"Hark! what was that?" asked Rauthgundis. "It was not the wind in the trees."
"It is horses!" cried Witichis. "They approach rapidly. I hear the clatter of arms. There--torches! Now into the river for life or death--but softly!"
He urged his horse into the water.
"There is no footing. The horses must swim. Hold fast by the mane, Rauthgundis. Forward, Wallada!"