"Cut their throats! Kill them!" the troopers cried angrily, pressing closer.
Like a flash, Leonidas bestrode the form of the captain, sword in hand.
"I am of Sparta!" he cried boastfully. "My country never saw the face of Philip, nor shall it look upon that of his son, who calls himself the Hegemon of all Hellas. Put away your swords, or here is one whose funeral you will celebrate to-morrow!"
He placed the point of his blade at the captain's throat as he spoke. The men of Macedon dared not move.
"Listen to reason!" Clearchus said hastily. "We are without armor, as you see. We saved the life of your captain, and we are on our way to Thebes to see Alexander on matters of importance. Take us with you and let your king deal with us. This is no time nor place for brawling."
"You are right," the lieutenant said sullenly. "Let it be as you say."
He sheathed his sword, and the others followed his example, though with an ill grace. The captain had begun to recover his senses. His skull must have been tough to have resisted the shock of his fall without cracking.
"Why are you letting me lie here?" he demanded. "Where is the enemy?"
"Scattered and gone, excepting these that you see," the lieutenant replied, pointing to the bodies.
"Then get me on a horse and back to camp," the captain ordered.