d loss of
blood, while Decius, Sergius, and Lentulus stood by him, helplessly
awaiting the end. A rush of fugitives swept by and almost overwhelmed
the wounded man; but Decius passed his arm around him, and the press
slackened.

"It is time for you to mount and ride, Cneius Lentulus;" and the consul
raised his head again, while the old-time spirit of command flashed in
his eyes. "You shall be my envoy to the fathers. Bid them fortify and
garrison the city; go--"

A new rush broke in upon his words,--a rush, in which the whole front
was borne back a spear's length beyond them. Sergius was thrown down,
but some one raised him, dazed and stunned, and seemed to bear him
along. A moment, and he found himself standing once more upon his
feet. Cneius Lentulus and his horse were gone; Paullus and Marcus
Decius were left alone far beyond--no, not alone. He saw the tunics of
the Iberians, now all as purple as their borders, thronging around; he
saw his general and his comrade give their throats to the sharp,
slender swords; and then he saw, far ahead, amid the Carthaginian
syntagmata, a swarthy, smiling face with crisp, curling beard; he saw
the brown-bronze corselet rich with gold, the meteor helmet with
ostrich plumes floating between its horns, the snowy mantle bordered
with Tyrian purple; and he saw the white head of the horse whose feet
needed now no dye of art to stain them vermilion. All the fury of
battle, all the madness of revenge overwhelmed him in an instant;
despair was gone, thoughts of past and future were swept away by the
surge of one overmastering idea: he must reach that man and kill him.
He looked around at the scattered, reeling maniples. A standard bearer
was lying at his feet, striving with his remnant of strength to wrench
the silver eagle from its staff, that he might hide it under his cloak;
but the death rattle came too quickly. Sergius picked up the standard.

"Come," he said, "there is the enemy." And then, without a glance to
note whether his appeal was regarded, he rushed blindly forward.

It was a discipline inspired by tradition rather than taught by drills
and punishments that came to the Roman recruit, and now it played its
part. These peasants, these artisans whose eyes had seen naught save
unaccustomed horrors through all the day, turned at once to answer the
summons of the eagle. Sergius heard the feeble shout of battle that
rose behind him, heard the scattered clanging of sw