d volition were lost in the terrific shock.

Line after line went down, as if at touch, while fresh lines poured on
over the heaving mass of men and horses, until those who were face to
face seemed to fight upon a hill. Fiercer grew the pressure, tighter
and more dense the throng; horses, crushed together, powerless to move,
snorted and tossed their heads in terror, while the riders leaned
forward and grappled with those opposite. Weapons first, then hands
clutching at throats were doing the deadly work, and the dead, man and
horse, stood fast amid the press, unable even to fall and become merged
into the hideous, purple thing beneath their feet.

Mere weight, though, was beginning to tell. The human ridge that had
marked the joining of battle seemed far back among the enemy, and
squadron after squadron, in close array, breasted its top and plunged
down to mingle with the living or take their places among the dead.
The Romans were giving ground, slowly, stubbornly, but unmistakably,
and still, above the shouts and shrieks, the trampling and the clash of
weapons, the groans and the hard, short breathing, they could hear the
harsh voice of the consul, Paullus, urging his men to make battle
firmly.

Backward, steadily backward; and now, in one of those mad rushes, in
which men who seemed immovably wedged were swirled about like the water
in a maelstrom, Sergius found himself close to the consul, with Manlius
but a few paces in front. The thin, cruel lips had writhed away from
the white teeth, the helmet was gone, and the scant, black hair was
dabbled with blood that flowed from a slight cut upon the general's
brow; the snake-like eyes sought those of the young patrician with a
look wherein exultation and despair were strangely mingled.

"To the earth! to the earth, all!" he cried, at the same moment
plunging his sword into his horse's throat, and lighting firmly on his
feet, as the animal sank suddenly down. "We _must_ stand. Gods! where
are the legions? Clashing shields and waving javelins, while we are
cut to pieces! Gods! they shall pay for it!" Then he drew close to
Sergius' ear and whispered as calmly as if in the praetorium: "Learn,
now, a lesson of war, my son. Hannibal destroys us piecemeal, choosing
where he is strong and we are weak, while Varro allows _his_ strength
to stand and rest and wait for its turn to come. Down! down all!"

Outnumbered, outarmed, borne down and back, the Roman cavalry stil