stantly assail the Barbarians in the
rear at that gate."

"Help at the Porta Principalis Sinistra!" entreated a horseman dashing
from the west.

Saturninus turned to speak to the messenger and, in doing so, turned
his back to the pine-tree; but he had scarcely addressed a few words to
the man, when a centurion standing behind the General uttered a cry of
terror and seized him by the arm: "Look around you, Tribune! There! By
the pine-tree! The earth is trembling; the abyss is opening; the altar
stones have sprung apart!"

Just at that moment the Barbarians' war-cry: "Odin! Odin! Alemanni!"
rang out in the midst of the camp, and Saturninus's face blanched as he
saw a gigantic figure in a white helmet, near the pine-tree, strike
down with his long spear a Celtic archer, who, shrieking, tried to
escape. Three, six, eight, twelve Barbarians had risen from the earth.
With a cry of savage fury the brave Roman rushed toward the giant. But
he could not reach him, his own soldiers threw him down.

It was a body of the Celts, hot-blooded, brave in assault, but easily
disheartened after an unfavorable turn. They saw the foe in the midst
of the camp; only a few had noticed whence they came or how small at
first was their number. Seized with panic, many throwing away their
weapons, they fled in frantic terror.

"Treason! Treason! The enemy is in the camp!" With these shouts a whole
troop of fugitives had flung themselves between the Duke and the Roman
General. The latter instantly sprang to his feet again.

"Halt, you cowards," shouted the fearless Tribune, again trying to
check with flashing sword, the mad rush of the fugitives. "Look around
you. There is only a handful of the enemy. And where will you fly?
Outside of the camp? Among the greatly superior number of the foe? Only
these walls can save you!"

"To the ships! To Nannienus! Across the lake! To Arbor!"

"Then die, you coward!" he cried fiercely, striking down the nearest
shouter, a standard bearer of the Celts; and tearing from the falling
man the dragon standard, with its fluttering purple streamers, he swung
it aloft, crying, "Roma! Roma!" and pressed forward.

For a moment he really succeeded in checking the fugitives. And now the
bold little band of intruders was in the utmost peril; then
Saturninus's attention was suddenly diverted to the top of the wall.

Many, many of its defenders had turned at the noise behind them, seen
German helmets in the midst of t