down from light feathery snow into solid ice.

The sounds it gave forth were at times quite loud, and were repeated
back from the towering rocks on either side. Farther on it would be a
soft crunch, crunch, mingled with the bumping of wheels and the plunging
of a horse as it struggled to drag its hoofs out of some depression into
which they had sunk, while, animated by the presence of their leader,
the horsemen cheered on the animals they led, and the charioteers helped
their pairs to drag the heavy cars over the snow-covered track.

The pass grew more and more like some huge rift in the mountain which
seemed to have been split open by lightning, whose form the deep way had
in some degree assumed.

For a few hundred yards the train would be going straight, till an acute
angle was reached, when for a distance the line would be forced to
almost double back to another point and double back again. It was a
savage kind of zig-zag which always led higher and higher, while as they
neared the top, the snow grew deeper and the walls on either side
closer, while these were not only perpendicular but in many cases
actually overhanging.

The horses' hoofs and the chariot wheels at last sank in so far, in
spite of their being unburdened, that the leader commanded a halt for
rest, and as this order was obeyed, Marcus, from where he stood panting,
with one hand that had been used to push forward the chariot resting now
upon its back, felt awe-stricken at the strange silence that for a
moment or two dwelt deep down in the jagged furrow, before it was broken
by the peculiar panting of exhausted men and steeds who were striving to
regain their wind, while a mist formed by the breath rendered everything
indistinct along the line, as it rose visibly on high.

For plainly now from the front came the sound of contending warriors,
apparently close at hand, though far enough away as yet, but increased
in power by being condensed into a narrow space, as it reverberated
along the pass from wall to wall.

But not alone from the front; fainter, but minute by minute gathering
strength, similar sounds came from the rear, telling plainly enough of
the fight that was going on where the foot-men were holding back the
advancing enemy during a steady retiring movement that could hardly be
called a retreat.

"I don't like this, boy," whispered Serge, who was resting against the
other side of the chariot.

"Are we being beaten, Serge?" asked M