voice--the enemy were close upon them, cutting them down.

"Where is Paaker?" asked the king. But the pioneer had vanished as
completely as if the earth had swallowed him and his chariot.

The flying Egyptians and the death-dealing chariots of the enemy came
nearer and nearer, the ground trembled, the tramp of hoofs and the roar
of wheels sounded louder and louder, like the roll of a rapidly
approaching storm.

Then Rameses gave out a war cry, that rang back from the cliffs on the
right hand and on the left like the blast of a trumpet; his chariot-guard
joined in the shout--for an instant the flying Egyptians paused, but only
to rush on again with double haste, in hope of escape and safety:
suddenly the war-cry of the enemy was heard behind the king, mingling
with the trumpet-call of the Cheta, and out from a cross valley, which
the king had passed unheeded by--and into which Paaker had disappeared--
came an innumerable host of chariots which, before the king could
retreat, had broken through the Egyptian ranks, and cut him off from the
body of his army. Behind him he could hear the roar and shock of the
battle, in front of him he saw the fugitives, the fallen, and the enemy
growing each instant in numbers and fury. He saw the whole danger, and
drew up his powerful form as if to prove whether it were an equal match
for such a foe. Then, raising his voice to such a pitch, that it sounded
above the cries and groans of the fighting men, the words of command, the
neighing of the horses, the crash of overthrown chariots, the dull whirr
of lances and swords, their heavy blows on shields and helmets, and the
whole bewildering tumult of the battle--with a loud shout he drew his
bow, and his first arrow pierced a Cheta chief.