In a few seconds they had reached the fountain, of which the basin was raised about three feet above the ground. By day it would have been a perfectly unavailing shelter, but in the darkness it was a sufficient cover. If the horsemen should have lanterns, to be sure--and this could not yet be seen for a rise in the ground--they might easily detect the track of the fugitives across the weeds and grass, and then.... For the first time in his life Quintus was aware of the presence of a great danger. Although he felt certain, that the unknown runner could not possibly have fetched the horsemen, who were now close upon them, there was an infinity of possibilities, of which the mere thought seized his heart with a cold grip. Even accident might here have played an important part. If the riders were really agents of the slave-takers, or even soldiers of the town-watch, the next few minutes were fateful indeed. The sinister vision that had passed them had made him anxious and undecided, and gloomy forebodings weighed on his mind. The thought flashed through his brain: How if you were now at home, standing by your own triclinium? Would you now appeal as you did to Blepyrus, or would you not rather seek some excuse for evading the work of rescue? But the question left him clear of all doubt; he did not regret the step he had taken, and let what might await him, he would persist now in the road on which he had started. This short meditation restored his peace of mind; he still was anxious, but it was not on his own account; it was for the task he had undertaken, the fugitive who lay in silence on the drenched couch, the faithful and brave souls who crouched with him for shelter. Suddenly he felt a trembling hand clasp his own, and press it with passionate fervor to quivering lips. It was Eurymachus, whose heart, in spite of every dread, was overflowing with exalted feeling. The slave’s grateful kiss fired a sacred glow through the young man’s veins, and it was with a sense of supreme indifference to all the sports of fate, that he heard the trample of hoofs coming nearer and nearer. Blepyrus and the stalwart Diphilus held themselves in readiness to meet a possible onslaught. Euterpe sat on a low stone, half paralyzed; her heart beat audibly, her hands trembled convulsively. The horses were now close upon them. Quintus leaned forward, and saw five or six dark forms mounted on small, nimble beasts. They were riding cautiously, at a short trot. Now they were passing the spot where the fugitives had turned aside from the high-road--Quintus fancied he saw them check their pace, and hastily felt for the weapon in his bosom. But it was a mistake. The riders trotted on, and did not diminish their pace till at some distance to the south-east, where the road mounted a hill. The hated sound of hoofs gradually died away in the distance. “God be praised!” sighed Euterpe. Diphilus hastened to reload himself.