eir attack and
being rolled back.

The fighting was sharp, the brunt of it being borne by the foot
soldiers, who protected the rear, while the chariots were forced over
the many difficulties and the horses helped along, a portion of the foot
being far in advance, ready for any body of the enemy which might be
blocking their way in ambush.

It had been rough work that day, and the men, after the amount of
fighting they had gone through, were beginning to look dispirited and
feel disheartened, for in addition to the length of the struggle, the
supplies had run short, and everyone knew that no more food could be
obtained until they had forced their way through the desolate pass, over
the summit, and down the other side to the cultivated and inhabited
regions below.

But their leader was well suited to his task, and he seemed to be
everywhere, with a word or two of encouragement and praise, stopping to
help the men with the baggage animals, heading a party sent forward to
lever the great blocks of stone that impeded progress, and ready
directly after to urge his trembling horse back among the rocks the
moment the echoes of the shouts behind warned him that there was a fresh
attack in the rear. There were two of these, one directly after the
start at sunrise, and a second high up the pass at mid-day, when as he
bade the horsemen and the chariots pass on, he laughingly in Marcus'
hearing told his soldiery to make use of the loose rocks to form a rough
breastwork behind which they could fight, and all the better for the
cavalry being out of their way.

That fight was bitter and long sustained, and as the turmoil came
echoing up the gorge to where Marcus and Serge were striving hard to
master the difficulties before them and urge their willing little
chariot horses on, the latter frowned as he rubbed his blue nose and
responded to something Marcus had said.

"No, my lad," he replied; "they're not getting the better of our men,
and they will not. We hear so much of what is going on because the
sound comes up as if through a trumpet."

"Comes up, Serge?"

"Yes, my lad; we're a couple of thousand feet higher than they are below
yonder, and the reason the fight lasts so long is because the enemy keep
on bringing up fresh men."

"Think so?" said Marcus.

"I'm sure of it, my lad. Yesterday and before there were thousands of
them scattered in droves all about us; now the pass is so narrow that
they are all squeezed up