The slash of a poniard was the answer, and they closed in a struggle, when the others suddenly raised a cry of ‘_Cave!_’ and fled in all directions into the recesses of the wood. A body of horsemen had rounded the bend in the road and was almost upon them. They were in military attire, and the moon glittered on their polished helmets and the trappings of the horses. The foremost trooper immediately sprang to the ground and rushed forward, followed by two or three more. The struggling men parted and darted into the grove after their companions, whilst the foremost of the new‐comers, singling out Cestus, followed him at the top of his speed. He was in a few moments hard upon the heels of the Suburan, who strained every nerve in fear of his pursuer, who possessed a far fleeter foot than himself. Fortune favoured him just at the critical moment, when, in terror, he seemed to feel a hand upon his collar. The outgrowing, straggling roots of a tree tripped the foot of the trooper, and he flew, with a dire crash, to the ground. The fall was so violent that he lay for a few seconds stunned. When he picked himself up, the whole of the flying vagabonds had disappeared among the gloomy boles, like water through a sieve, leaving neither trace nor sound behind. He shook himself with a laugh, and gathering up his brazen helmet, walked back to the road. Some others of the troop were here dismounted, using their best efforts to revive the unconscious Fabricius. Flasks were produced; wine and water were poured into his mouth and rubbed on his temples. The two inanimate slaves were laid side by side until a helmet full of water could be brought from a neighbouring fountain to be dashed upon them. The soldier we have particularised knelt down beside the prostrate Fabricius. ‘Is he badly hurt?’ he asked. ‘It is hard to say, Centurion; but, dead or not, it is a man of the Senate,’ replied the comrade, who was bathing the old man’s forehead. ‘Humph!’ said the Centurion, ‘is, or was, rather—he wears only the narrow band. However, he is worth the trouble of a few minutes. Do your best. Do you object to wait for a brief time, Drusus?’ This question was addressed to one who sat motionless on his horse close by. Leading reins were attached to his charger’s bridle and held by a mounted soldier on each side. ‘No!’ replied this person, ‘I hold this delay as kind and fortunate, for the pleasant moonlight and the sweet air of heaven will soon know me no more.’ Fabricius soon showed symptoms of life, and then his recovery was rapid. He sat up and glanced around. ‘Where am I? What is all this? Ah, I know,’ he ejaculated. ‘I remember!—but you?’ ‘Why, simply in this way,’ responded the officer; ‘we saw you on the ground, and a couple of night‐hawks squabbling over you. A few moments later, and probably you would never have spoken again on earth.’