“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.