l
fought, but the press had grown looser, the mass less dense; and now,
at the word of the consul, all that could hear his voice obeyed the
order of despair, ancient as the day of Lake Regillus. Man after man
sprang to earth. Here was freer swing for weapons, here was surer
foothold, better chance to stand fast, and, for a moment, the thronging
foe seemed to recoil before the determined onslaught.

But it was not recoil. It was only the devouring of the foremost by
that red monster underneath. Who could recoil, with the squadrons
still pouring on, over the hill of corpses behind? Beaten, a man could
but die in his place, and that much they did. Many, too, had followed
the Roman example, leaping from their steeds and fighting hand to hand,
till the cavalry battle had changed into a thousand combats of man
against man.

It was here that Caius Manlius fell. Sergius was but a few feet from
him when he saw the youth sway gently, and, bowing his head, sink down.
He had made an effort to push to his side, and then the front of the
enemy seemed to receive some new impetus and surged forward over the
spot. What mattered it? He had seen the red spear point peeping out
between his friend's shoulders. He was dead, as they would all soon
be, and the couch was purple and kinglike. At that moment, he felt his
arm gripped hard, and turned to look into the consul's face.

"Do you not see it is over?" said Paullus, sharply.

"How?"

"We are falling back--_forced_ back--faster and faster. We are where
we first stood. Do you see that sapling by the river? I marked it
before we rode out. Soon we shall break; come!"

"Where?" asked Sergius.

"Where there may yet be hope, if the gods will it,--if they strike down
Varro: the centre, the legions. I do not believe they have fairly
advanced their standards yet."

"Do we fly?" and, as he spoke, Sergius frowned darkly.

"Fool! We _fight_. Later, perhaps, we shall die, but not here. In
the _centre_--"

As he spoke, a new, swirling rush seemed to carry them away, still
together, first with furious violence, then more slowly.

"Ah! it has come," said the consul, quietly. "This way. The dust is
blinding, but I think the sun is behind us." Pushing on and striking
right and left as he went, Aemilius Paullus fought a pathway through
flying and pursuing men. Sergius followed and once, when he saw the
consul cut down the boy who had stood near and talked to them that
mo