Meanwhile the Syracusan generals had marched upon Catana, and finding that they had been duped, returned with all speed to the defence of their own city. After a long and fatiguing march, they came in view of the Athenian position, and drew up their forces for battle. But Nicias declined the challenge, and the day being now far advanced, they fell back and encamped for the night in the open field. Next morning Nicias, acting with unusual vigour, drew up his army in two equal divisions, and leaving one half to defend the camp, and act as a reserve, with the other he advanced rapidly upon the enemy. The Syracusans, who had perhaps reckoned too much on the known indolence of Nicias, were taken by surprise. Their discipline was lax, and many of them had left their posts, and gone off into the town. Nevertheless, they met the attack with firmness: those who were on the spot hastened to assume their weapons, which they had laid aside, while the stragglers came running back, and took their stand wherever they saw a gap in the ranks. After some preliminary skirmishing between the light-armed troops, the heavy masses of the hoplites came to close quarters, and a fierce hand to hand struggle ensued. While the issue was still uncertain, a violent thunderstorm broke over the contending armies, and struck terror into the Syracusans, who regarded it as an omen of defeat. But the seasoned soldiers of Nicias saw nothing unusual in an autumn tempest, and perceiving the enemy to waver, they pressed their attack, and broke through the opposing lines. The whole Syracusan army now fell back upon Syracuse, but they retired without haste or disorder, and their retreat was covered by a numerous and efficient body of cavalry, so that their total loss amounted only to two hundred and sixty.