In an instant, those nearest the fallen warrior began to strike
at one another with their swords, and stab with their spears.
The confusion spread wider and wider. Each man smote down his
brother, and was himself smitten down before he had time to
exult in his victory. The trumpeters, all the while, blew their
blasts shriller and shriller; each soldier shouted a battle
cry, and often fell with it on his lips. It was the strangest
spectacle of causeless wrath, and of mischief for no good end,
that had ever been witnessed; but, after all, it was neither
more foolish nor more wicked than a thousand battles that have
since been fought, in which men have slain their brothers with
just as little reason as these children of the dragon's teeth.
It ought to be considered, too, that the dragon people were
made for nothing else; whereas other mortals were born to love
and help one another.

Well, this memorable battle continued to rage until the ground
was strewn with helmeted heads that had been cut off. Of all
the thousands that began the fight, there were only five left
standing. These now rushed from different parts of the field,
and, meeting in the middle of it, clashed their swords, and
struck at each other's hearts as fiercely as ever.

"Cadmus," said the voice again, "bid those five warriors
sheathe their swords. They will help you to build the city."

Without hesitating an instant, Cadmus stepped forward, with the
aspect of a king and a leader, and extending his drawn sword
amongst them, spoke to the warriors in a stern and commanding
voice.