The heat by this time was something intense, owing to the near neighborhood of the fierce flames, while the thick white smoke, rolling upward in clouds, nearly choked them with its pungent odor. The Melnosians were getting the worst of it in this case, as the draught blowing upward from the sea drove the eddying wreaths of acrid vapor full against their faces, while the enemy was quite free from such annoyance. Headed by Alcibiades and Caliphronas, who, for a wonder, had pluck enough to place himself in front of his men, they awaited with impatience the fall of the barricade, and, quite anticipating that the Melnosians would be choked by the pungent smoke, were prepared to dash forward and carry the earthworks by storm while the defenders were yet stupefied. Justinian saw this danger, made up his mind, and acted thereon with promptitude and decision. “Maurice, we must make a sally, and get into the clear air beyond, else this smoke will suffocate us, and thus give them the advantage.” “Right!” replied his nephew, recognizing the necessity for immediate action. “The flames are now pretty low, so let us dash through at once and take them by surprise. I will lead. You stay here, sir.” “I’m hanged if I will!” “You must, uncle, so as to help me if I need it. Tell the men to follow me, as I am not well enough up in Greek.” At this moment, the barricade fell down with a crash, amid a sudden shower of sparks and rolling vapors. They could hear the triumphant shouts of Alcibiades at the achievement of this result, and Maurice ground his teeth with anger, as he caught the taunting tones of Caliphronas’ voice, rejoicing over this catastrophe. “You wait here with some men, uncle, and build up the earthwork higher, while I make a dash with a handful, and see if I cannot drive them down the staircase.” This suggestion was more palatable to Justinian than the former one, as it gave him something to do, so he hastily told the men of Maurice’s suggestion. A number of the Melnosians, who were lying on the ground with their heads wrapped in their cloaks to escape the stifling smoke, sprang up, on hearing this, with a joyous shout; so, hastily selecting his men, Maurice unsheathed his sword, grasped his revolver, and made ready for a dash. Owing to the fall of the palisade, the flames were now very low, but the smoke still rolled upward in blinding clouds, thus effectively concealing their movements from the enemy. “Good-by, my lad! God bless you!” said the old lion, grasping his nephew’s hand. “Drive them down as far as you can, and, while you keep them at bay, I will have the barricade built up again, with sand-bags and turf.”