But now a gap was suddenly made in the ranks of the soldiers standing before her. A troop of mailed riders came dashing down the street of the camp from the north toward the gate, and the Illyrians before her opened their ranks to let the cavalry pass. Bissula fearlessly seized the tail of one of the horses and, without loosing her hold of Bruna, let herself be dragged along. In this way she successfully reached the Via Principalis, but here, feeling her arm seized, she released the horse, which now kicked violently. The girl looked around angrily. It was old Prosper. "Halt," he commanded, "you must stay with me, Bissula. That is the order of the patronus; he sent me to you, supposing that you would be in the midst of the uproar. I am to keep strict watch of you, till the attack is repulsed." "Let me go," she cried angrily, trying to release herself. "No, you shall not. I must answer for you. Follow me." They now began to struggle violently; but the man was stronger than the girl. She could not escape his hold. Then Bruna, growling furiously, rose on her hind legs and struck with her huge paws at her mistress's foe. With a cry of terror the freedman, releasing the girl, sprang back, and the next instant Bissula, by creeping between the horses' legs, slipped through the ranks of the mailed riders, who, facing south, were now the only obstacle between her and the lake gate. She fairly flew down the long, narrow central street, the Via Media, in whose tents the luggage was sheltered. There she saw Herculanus and, somewhat farther down, Davus, each in a heavy oak-block, sunk into the earth, with both feet thrust through holes and fettered to the blocks with heavy cross chains. Bissula ran farther in terror. Now, for the first time, she looked around for Bruna, The bear had not followed her; her growling came from beyond the ranks of the horsemen, and at the same time Bissula saw a pack of huge dogs, barking furiously, leaping on the angry beast. One of the animals was hurled aside by the terrible paw, yelping with agony. But the girl could wait no longer, far less turn back. She hurried on; already she saw before her the goal of her longing, the Decumanian Gate. Already the blows of axes were thundering ceaselessly outside upon the groaning oak planks and iron bars. Those were her own people, her deliverers, her liberators! But the solid gate held out firmly, and missiles rained from the top of the wall upon the unprotected assailants. She pressed forward as near the gate as she could. Only a single rank of soldiers separated her from it. Then Bissula heard outside a ringing voice which sent a thrill of rapture through every vein. She knew those tones. "Set fire to the gate! Bring all the torches!" Forgetting all caution, she sprang through the rank of soldiers, pushing two of them aside, put her face to the gate and called with her utmost strength, "Adalo! Help! Adalo!"