This time they attacked us both, broke through into our orchard, and once again swept right over the defences of the lower hill. We took heavy toll of them as they came up the steep slope, but they did not lack courage, and the gaps in the lines filled as fast as they were made, while their arrows slowly but steadily wore down our weak force. Twice we drove them back out of the orchard, and twice they pushed their way in again. The third time they drove us back to the very crest, and only the reserve under Philos saved us being cleared right off the hilltop. The green hillside was strewn with bodies, and every now and then a wild rush of shouting men would surge in, with scurry of steel, and the low dull sound of blows, shouts of slayers, and cry of wounded, though for the most part the Blue Sakae fought in silence, fighting like trapped wolves.
We beat them out once more, and Payindah’s rifle was hot and the woodwork oily, and his beloved bayonet red to the haft. As they drew off I looked around. On the lower hill the fight raged round the huts, and the whole hill was massed with the enemy. On our side we had no longer men to hold the orchard hedge, and had to draw back to positions nearer the crest. To the right the enemy had found ways through the marshland, and driven up our men below, while my thirty mounted men had come up the hill, picketed their ponies behind, and were standing just under the crest waiting for orders.
Still farther out to the right, Stephnos was heavily out-numbered, and I could see him withdrawing toward us, disputing every inch of cover where his men dismounted and fought awhile with the bow, galloping off once more as the enemy closed, to dismount again and renew the fight at the next point that offered cover.
“It is finished,” said Philos, pointing to the lower hill. “See, the enemy have swept right over it.”
“Yes, but the huts still hold,” said I, looking through my glasses. “I can see the enemy still being shot down with arrows. Your cousin has drawn the rest of his men into the buildings and still holds out. But the road is open behind us now, and we shall be surrounded in a little while. Send a reliable man to tell Stephnos how we stand. If he is going to join us, he must do so now. Otherwise it will be too late.”
“They come!” shouted Payindah, pointing back down the Aornos road.
The men around did not understand him, but they caught his meaning, as looking back we saw, about two miles away, the low long dust-cloud that shows marching troops, and a low cheer went up.
“Half an hour more, Philos,” said I. “We shall be hard put to it to hold that time.”
“And my messenger is killed. See, the enemy is thick between us and Stephnos. He will have to draw off to the rearward. We fight this out alone. The enemy on the lower hill have seen the dust. Hark, how they shout and call to those behind. They will attack us now with all their strength to get the hills ere Kyrlos comes, so that the rest of their people may cross the river. Lo, they come now!”
His orders rang out, and our worn lines stiffened again as the enemy advanced up the hill once more, dense masses of closely packed men, and their arrows rained on us anew. My second orderly, standing behind me, gave a choked sob as an arrow tore into his throat, and he reeled backward, the light breaking in his eyes.