trapped."

"They will have!" Plekhanov roared. "I countermand that order, Watson!
We're withdrawing."

Barry Watson raised his eyebrows at Joe Chessman.

"Put him under arrest," Joe growled sourly. "We'll decide what to do
about it later."

* * * * *

By the third day, Mynor's rebel and nomad army had filed through the
pass and was forming itself into battle array. Rank upon rank upon rank.

The Tulan infantry had taken less than half a day to enter. They had
camped and rested during the interval, the only action being on the part
of the rival cavalry forces.

Now the thirty thousand Tulans went into their phalanx and began their
march across the valley.

Joe Chessman, Hawkins, Roberts, Stevens and Khan Reif and several of his
men again occupied the knoll which commanded a full view of the terrain.
With binoculars and wrist radios from the _Pedagogue_ they kept in
contact with the battle.

Below, Barry Watson walked behind the advancing infantry. There were six
divisions of five thousand men each, twenty-four foot _sarissas_
stretched before their sixteen man deep line. Only the first few lines
were able to extend their weapons; the rest gave weight and supplied
replacements for the advanced lines' casualties. Behind them all the
Tulan drums beat out the slow, inexorable march.

Cogswell, beside Watson with the wrist radio, said excitedly, "Here
comes a cavalry charge, Barry. Reif says right behind it the nomad
infantry is coming in." Cogswell cleared his throat. "All of them."

Watson held up a hand in signal to his officers. The phalanx ground to a
halt, received the charge on the hedge of _sarissas_. The enemy cavalry
wheeled and attempted to retreat to the flanks but were caught in a
bloody confusion by the pressure of their own advancing infantry.

Cogswell, his ear to the radio, said, "Their main body of horse is
hitting our right flank." He wet his lips. "We're outnumbered there
something like ten to one. At least ten to one."

"They've got to hold," Watson said. "Tell Reif and Chessman that flank
has to hold."

The enemy infantrymen in their hundreds of thousands hit the Tulan line
in a clash of deafening military thunder. Barry Watson resumed his
pacing. He signaled to the drummers who beat out another march. The
phalanx moved forward slowly, and slowly went into an echelon formation,
each division slightly ahead of the one following. Of necessity, the
straight