and Dada's eyes were
fixed spell-bound on the obelisk and on the quadrigas that whirled round
the bourn.

Next to Hippias came a blue team, and close behind were three red ones.
The Christian who had succeeded in reaching the nyssa second, boldly
took his horses close round the obelisk, hoping to gain space and get
past Hippias; but the left wheel of his chariot grazed the granite
plinth, the light car was overset, and the horses of the red chariot,
whose noses were almost on his shoulder, could not be pulled up short
in time. They fell over the Christian's team which rolled on the
ground; the red chariot, too, turned over, and eight snorting beasts lay
struggling in the sand.

The horses in the next chariot bolted as they were being driven past
this mass of plunging and neighing confusion; they defied their driver's
impotent efforts and galloped across the course back into the caiceres.

The rest had time and space enough to beware of the wreck and to give it
a wide berth, among them Marcus. The melee at the Meta had excited his
steeds almost beyond control, and as they tore past the Taraxippos the
third horse, Megaera, shied violently as Demetrius had predicted. She
flung herself on one side, thrust her hind quarters under the pole, and
kicked desperately, lifting the chariot quite off the ground; the young
charioteer lost his footing and slipped. Dada covered her face with her
hands, and his mother turned pale and knit her brows with apprehension.
The youth was still standing; his feet were on the sand of the arena;
but he had a firm grip on the right-hand spiral ornament that terminated
the bar round the chariot. Many a heart stood still with anxiety, and
shouts of triumph and mockery broke from the red party; but in less than
half a minute, by an effort of strength and agility, he had his knees on
the foot-board, and then, in the winking of an eye, he was on his feet
in the chariot, had gathered up the reins and was rushing onward.

Meanwhile, however, Hippias had far outstripped all the rest, and as
he flew past the carceres he checked his pace, snatched a cup from
a lemonade-seller, tossed the contents down his throat with haughty
audacity amid the plaudits of the crowd, and then dashed on again. A
wide gap, indeed, still lay between him and Marcus.

By the time the competitors again came round to the nyssa, the slaves in
attendance had cleared away the broken chariots and led off the horses.
A Christian st