rning, he stopped still and shuddered.

Paullus paused and laughed at him over his shoulder.

"A flying man in the path of a general is much worse than a dead one,"
he said. "Besides, none of them can save his life in that
direction--so it is nothing."

At that moment, indeed, the prophecy that no man of the Roman cavalry
would escape, seemed fair for fulfilment. Few fought on, and these
were soon ridden down, while Gauls and Spaniards thundered upon the
rear of such as sought safety of the rein, and slew them with steady,
measured strokes. Only the consul with perhaps a dozen others were,
for the time, safe. They were clear of the rout; within the protecting
reach of the great, legionary column, that was but just beginning to
move, and they turned, gasping for breath, and, with dazed eyes,
watched the flight and pursuit sweep by along the river bank.

XV.

"WITHIN THE RAILS."

It was then that Sergius first realized that Caius Manlius, his friend,
the brother of Marcia, was indeed dead; but the time for such thoughts
ivas short. Clenching his teeth in a paroxysm of anger, he again
turned to follow Paullus and Decius, who had passed into the ranks of
the legions and joined themselves to the personal volunteers of the
pro-consul, Servilius.

The great column was moving now, steadily gathering impetus, and there
was little speech between the generals. Servilius gazed with gloomy
brows at the consul and the half dozen men that remained to him, and no
question as to the fate of the right wing was asked or answered.

"How fight they on the left?" asked Paullus, after a moment's pause.

"The allies skirmish with the Numidians," replied Servilius.

"You mean that the Numidians skirmish with them," said Paullus.

That was all, and the two soldiers turned to their task.

The slingers' bullets fell no longer, or only scattering ones, dropping
from above, told that these hornets had fallen back and sought refuge
behind their lines; but the roar of battle rolled furiously from the
front.

"It is the standards that oppose at last," commented Paullus. "The
ranks are not too close--yet. Let us go forward."

Servilius protested, but the other waved him back.

"Here is _your_ place who command, my Servilius," said the consul; and
a smile, sad rather than bitter, lit up the harsh lines of his face.
"It is I, having no command, who can justly ply the sword."

Sergius followed, and in a few moments the incr