A Narrow Escape.
To have the horses turned, and gallop back along the narrow river bed for their lives, was Marcus’ first thought. His second, braver and better, was to shout to the driver at his elbow to urge the horses on at their greatest speed.
The man hardly needed telling, for as the first words of command were buzzing in his ear he was shaking the reins and calling upon the brave little beasts to exert themselves to the utmost.
“Forward, my beauties,” he yelled, “or the barbarians will have you, and before to-morrow you will be roasted and eaten. Gallop—gallop away!”
There was no time for Serge to talk, but he acted, and acted well. Picking up instantly two of the spears which hung at the chariot side in loops, he thrust one into Marcus’ hand, retained the other, and stood ready to thrust. Marcus followed his example. Neither thought of using their shields, but stood fierce and staring of aspect, watching the party of men barring their way and shouting to them to stop.
It seemed like the next moment that the enemy, who fully expected the strangers in the chariot to surrender, found that to give up was the last thought in their expected prisoners’ breasts, and thereupon some dropped their spears, others were in the act of turning to fly, when with a dull, strange sound the chariot horses were upon them. Literally upon them, for the gallant little beasts obeyed their natural instinct, as they galloped and rose to leap the pale of human obstacles and spears in front, but only to come down quite short, trampling and spurning down the enemy, over whom the chariot rolled, bumping, leaping and splashing, and directly after, untouched by the long spears held by the uninjured, the driver turned the horses slightly, and their next bounds were upon dry land, rough and rugged enough, but free from any great impediments. Then away and away as hard as they could go, while the more active of those who were not hurt, recovering themselves a little from the shock and scare, came after the charioteers in chase with levelled spears.
“Splendid, Marcus, boy!” cried Serge. “Bah! You need not look back; they’ll give up running directly. You did not think they would catch us up?”
“No,” replied Marcus, breathing hard, “but stop! Stop! Lupe is fighting with them, and they’ll spear him if we don’t go to his help.”
“Eh? Go back, boy? To certain death!” cried the old soldier, fiercely. “It couldn’t be done if it was to save the finest dog in the world.”
“Oh, Serge!” cried Marcus, wildly.