"Bissula!" rose a voice without, and a terrible blow--the first which had penetrated cleft a yawning gash in the right wing of the double gate, so that the splinters flew inside. At the same time Bissula heard two voices call her name from the wall above. Looking up she saw Zercho and Sippilo who, in advance of all the others, had scaled the wall at the right of the gate. "Here, little one!" shouted the Sarmatian, letting a rope slide down the inside, while he wound the other end around the ladder rising above the wall. "Where are you, Bissula?" called Sippilo, leaning far over and holding a torch down. "Alas! I can't see her anywhere!" The girl, standing at the left of the gate, could not make her way through the soldiers to the right; she was obliged to see a strong Thracian on the top of the wall seize a heavy pole, which he held crosswise with both hands, and springing forward hurl both the over-bold assailants (they were still standing alone) backward at a single thrust. "Oho, Sippilo," shouted Adalo outside, "what was that?" "A somersault!" replied the boy laughing, and jumping up again. "But you, Zercho! Alas! you cannot stand?" "Unfortunately! My foot--I think it is broken!" "Take him, men, two of you, and carry him out of the fight," Adalo ordered. "Where?" "To my own hall; it is still standing." Bissula uttered a cry when she saw her two friends fall backward; but the next instant her senses failed. A soldier whom she had repeatedly tried to thrust aside turned angrily: he meant to strike his troublesome comrade, as he supposed the person to be. Then he recognized the young girl, and his wrath instantly vanished. "Go back, little one!" he exclaimed. "You'll get killed here!" And, with kindly intent, he flung her toward the left; but the clumsy fellow exerted too much strength, or the weight of the dainty figure was too light; she struck her head so violently against one of the beams of her old hiding-place that she lay stunned and senseless where she had fallen. "Bissula!" Adalo called again through the gaping cleft in the door. But he received no answer. CHAPTER XLIX. The Adeling and his followers would probably soon have forced their way through this gate, one of whose wings had already caught fire and was beginning to glow and smoke more and more, while the other was splitting wider and wider under the heavy blows of the axe, had not the battle on the opposite side of the camp taken a turn which was also to prove decisive for the conflict around the Porta Decumana. Scarcely had Bissula fallen unconscious, when down every street in the camp that led from the north toward this southern gate, riders, riderless horses, foot-soldiers, and slaves came rushing in a wild flight with frantic cries. "Fly," cried a warrior in scale armor, dashing past Herculanus and Davus. "The Barbarians are upon us!" "The camp is taken!" shouted a Celt, hurrying out of a side street.