lick his hands and face.

Then, in an instant, the scene was changed: the Roman horsemen burst
in, and, frenzied by the spectacle before them, slew madly and fast.
Hither and thither they swept, wherever the dusky figures sought to
fly, and the thin, reed-like lances rose and plunged and rose again,
shivering and dripping, from the bodies of their victims. But for
their well-trained steeds, who came and knelt at their masters' calls,
not one of the desert horsemen could have escaped, and, as it was, a
mere dozen broke out from the carnage and scurried away, with the
avengers in close and relentless pursuit. Marcus Decius paused a
moment before the cross and studied the torn frame and blackened skin
of the man who hung there. Then, with a swift movement of his lance,
he transfixed the quivering body, and, hardly catching the "Jove bless
thee, comrade," and the sigh with which life escaped, he dashed on
after the pursuing squadrons.

VI.

DISOBEDIENCE.

That the chase was doomed to be a vain one seemed apparent. Once mounted
and urging on their steeds with the shrill, barbaric cries of the desert,
Hannibal's light horsemen were safe from all ordinary pursuit. One after
another of the Romans drew up his panting animal, and scarce half of
their turmae pounded on.

Suddenly they saw the flying Numidians throw their horses upon their
haunches. A moment of indecision followed, and then, while several
darted off obliquely, the remainder, seven or eight in all, swung around
and charged straight at the legionaries. At their head rode a giant,
black as ebony save where gouts of red had splashed him with the hue of
terror. His frizzly hair was caught up high and ornamented with a
cluster of ostrich feathers, while with his right hand he drew javelin
after javelin from the sheaf he carried in his left, and launched them
with unerring aim at his former pursuers. Three had flown on their
errands, two had brought down a soldier each, and the third quivered in
the throat of Sergius' horse. Then, as the animal reared and went over,
carrying his rider with him, the assailant burst through the line, and in
a moment had gained the open plain beyond. Once more he was safe, safe
but for one short, thick-set rider,--Marcus Decius, first decurion of the
first turma, hastening to overtake his troop.

Escape from such a pursuer was child's play for the Numidian; but the
fury of fight was on him, and, gnashing his white tee