were almost on his shoulder, could not be pulled up short in time. They
fell over the Christian's team which rolled on the ground; the red
chariot, too, turned over, and eight snorting beasts lay struggling in
the sand.

The horses in the next chariot bolted as they were being driven past this
mass of plunging and neighing confusion; they defied their driver's
impotent efforts and galloped across the course back into the caiceres.

The rest had time and space enough to beware of the wreck and to give it
a wide berth, among them Marcus. The melee at the Meta had excited his
steeds almost beyond control, and as they tore past the Taraxippos the
third horse, Megaera, shied violently as Demetrius had predicted. She
flung herself on one side, thrust her hind quarters under the pole, and
kicked desperately, lifting the chariot quite off the ground; the young
charioteer lost his footing and slipped. Dada covered her face with her
hands, and his mother turned pale and knit her brows with apprehension.
The youth was still standing; his feet were on the sand of the arena; but
he had a firm grip on the right-hand spiral ornament that terminated the
bar round the chariot. Many a heart stood still with anxiety, and shouts
of triumph and mockery broke from the red party; but in less than half a
minute, by an effort of strength and agility, he had his knees on the
foot-board, and then, in the winking of an eye, he was on his feet in the
chariot, had gathered up the reins and was rushing onward.

Meanwhile, however, Hippias had far outstripped all the rest, and as he
flew past the carceres he checked his pace, snatched a cup from a
lemonade-seller, tossed the contents down his throat with haughty
audacity amid the plaudits of the crowd, and then dashed on again. A
wide gap, indeed, still lay between him and Marcus.