Instead of halting, as he expected, John sprang past him and, throwing down his helmet and buckler, dashed through the space between the companies.
"Seize him! Cut him down!" the centurion shouted; but John was already descending the slope.
As he ran, he swung the loosely buckled breastplate round on to his back; and it was well he did so for, a moment later, a Roman javelin rang against it, the force of the blow almost throwing him on his face. But, in a moment, he continued his course. He was in total darkness now and, though the javelins were flying around him, they were thrown at random. But the descent had now become so steep he was obliged to pause in his course, and to make his way cautiously.
He undid the buckle, and left the breastplate behind him; threw down the sword; and climbed down until he stood by the side of the river. He could hear shouts above him, and knew that the Romans were searching the hillside, hoping that he had been killed or wounded by their darts. But he had no fear of pursuit. He swam the river--for he had struck upon a deep spot--and then, at full speed, ran along on the bank--knowing that some of the Roman cavalry were encamped upon the plain, and would soon be on the spot.
However, all was quiet, and he met no one until he arrived opposite the place where it had been arranged that the party should meet. Then he waded across.
"Is that you, John?" a voice exclaimed.
"It is I, Jonas. Thank God, you have got back safely! How many are with you?"
There was a loud cry of satisfaction and, as he made his way up the bank, a number of his followers crowded round him; all in the highest state of delight at his return. Jonas threw his arms round his neck, crying with joy.
"I thought you must have fallen, John. I have been here ten minutes. Most of the others were here before me. Only three have arrived since and, for the last five minutes, none have come."
"I fear no more will come," John said. "The Romans have cut off all retreat.