lucky enough to get so
far that after dark, if we climbed up high enough, we might be able to
see our people's watch fires twinkling like stars in the distance."

"Oh, Serge, that would be capital!" cried Marcus, excitedly. "Do you
think we shall be so fortunate?"

"Don't know, boy," growled the old soldier; "but hurry the ponies along
while we can see that we are on the right track. There's no reason why
we shouldn't be fortunate."

"Oh, we must be, Serge," cried Marcus. "It's horrible to think of our
general and all his men shut up in that bitter snowy pass, fighting hard
for life, and always watching for the help that does not come.
Forward!" shouted the boy, and at his word the driver seemed to make the
horses fly.

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN.

MARCUS' PLAN.

"Steady, steady!" cried Serge to the driver. "Mind that great block."

For as they tore on, with more and more traces of an engagement teaching
them that they were going right, the driver seemed to be sending the
fiery little pair he drove straight for a low mass of stone, contact
with which must have meant wreck.

Startled by the old soldier's angry shout, the driver drew one rein
sharply, making the ponies swerve right for another far more dangerous
obstacle and but for Marcus' readiness in snatching at the other rein, a
worse mishap would have occurred.

They were saved from this, but the shouts had scared the fiery little
steeds, sending them dashing frantically off in quite a fresh direction,
while to Marcus' horror, he saw that it was into another danger in the
shape of a vast body of the enemy who, as the flying ponies drew near,
sprang to their feet from where they were lying behind a ridge.

Getting the ponies once more well in hand, the driver, who saw nothing
but death for himself if they were taken, wrenched the heads of the pair
round once more, just when they seemed about to plunge into the thick
ranks of the enemy, along whose front they tore in the intent of
sweeping round their line.

But the hope was vain, for another body of men came into sight, rising
from the earth where they had been lying, to form up at right angles to
the first body, and once more the direction of the chariot had to be
changed, then altered again and again, for to Marcus' horror foes sprang
up in every direction they took, the country seeming alive with the
enemy, and all prospect of getting through them and continuing their
dash for the Roman army at an