Scarcely had Valerius joined the two in front, when suddenly the tramp of horses was heard close at hand, and soon, round the next turning of the road, there appeared two horsemen, advancing at full trot. Each carried a torch in his right hand; and these torches alone threw light upon the midnight scene, for the Goths avoided everything that could betray their small number. "By Belisarius's beard!" cried the foremost rider, checking his horse to a walk, "this hen-ladder is here so narrow, that an honest horse has scarcely room in it; and there is a hollow way or---- Halt! What moves there?" He stopped his horse, and bent carefully forward, holding the torch far out before him. In this position, close before the entrance of the pass, he presented an easy aim. "Who is there!" he again asked. For all reply a Gothic spear pierced through the mail of his breast-plate and into his heart. "Enemies!" screamed the dying man, and fell backwards from his saddle. "Enemies! enemies!" cried the man behind him, and, hurling his treacherous torch far from him, turned his animal and galloped back; while the horse of the fallen man remained quietly standing at his master's side. Nothing was heard in the stillness of the night but the tramp of the fleeing charger, and the gentle splash of the waves at the foot of the rocks. The hearts of the men in the pass beat with expectation. "Now be cool, men," said Valerius; "let none be tempted out of the pass. You in the first row will press your shields firmly together; we in the middle will throw; you three in the rear will hand us the spears, and be attentive to all that takes place." "Sir! sir!" cried the Goth who stood in the road behind the pass, "the light! the ship approaches ever nearer!" "Be wary, and challenge it, if----" But the enemy was already at hand. It was a troop of fifty mounted Huns, carrying a few torches. As they turned round the corner of the road, the scene was illuminated with patches of glaring light, contrasted with deep gloom. "It was here, sir!" said the horseman who had escaped. "Be cautious." "Take back the dead man and the horse," commanded a rough voice, and the leader, lifting his torch, rode slowly towards the entrance of the pass. "Halt!" cried Valerius in Latin; "who are you, and what do you want?" "_I_ have to ask that!" returned the leader of the horsemen in the same language. "I am a Roman citizen, and defend my fatherland against all invaders!" cried Valerius. Meanwhile the leader had examined the scene by the light of his torch. His practised eye recognised the impossibility of avoiding the pass, either to the right or to the left; and, at the same time, the extreme straitness of its entrance. "Then, friend," he said, retreating a little, "we are allies. We are Romans too, and will free Italy from its oppressors. Therefore give way and let us through." Valerius, who wished to gain time by all possible means, spoke again. "Who are you, and who sent you?"