Spendius’s stratagem did not succeed at first as he had hoped.  This assurance of the new peril, so far from exciting frenzy, raised fears; and remembering Hamilcar’s warning, lately thrown into their midst, they expected something unlooked for and terrible.  The night was spent in great distress; several even got rid of their weapons, so as to soften the Suffet when he presented himself.

But on the following day, at the third watch, a second runner appeared, still more breathless, and blackened with dust.  The Greek snatched from his hand a roll of papyrus covered with Phoenician writing.  The Mercenaries were entreated not to be disheartened; the brave men of Tunis were coming with large reinforcements.

Spendius first read the letter three times in succession; and held up by two Cappadocians, who bore him seated on their shoulders, he had himself conveyed from place to place and re-read it.  For seven hours he harangued.

He reminded the Mercenaries of the promises of the Great Council; the Africans of the cruelties of the stewards, and all the Barbarians of the injustice of Carthage.  The Suffet’s mildness was only a bait to capture them; those who surrendered would be sold as slaves, and the vanquished would perish under torture.  As to flight, what routes could they follow?  Not a nation would receive them.  Whereas by continuing their efforts they would obtain at once freedom, vengeance, and money!  And they would not have long to wait, since the people of Tunis, the whole of Libya, was rushing to relieve them.  He showed the unrolled papyrus:  “Look at it! read! see their promises!  I do not lie.”

Dogs were straying about with their black muzzles all plastered with red.  The men’s uncovered heads were growing hot in the burning sun.  A nauseous smell exhaled from the badly buried corpses.  Some even projected from the earth as far as the waist.  Spendius called them to witness what he was saying; then he raised his fists in the direction of Hamilcar.

Matho, moreover, was watching him, and to cover his cowardice he displayed an anger by which he gradually found himself carried away.  Devoting himself to the gods he heaped curses upon the Carthaginians.  The torture of the captives was child’s play.  Why spare them, and be ever dragging this useless cattle after one?  “No! we must put an end to it! their designs are known! a single one might ruin us! no pity!  Those who are worthy will be known by the speed of their legs and the force of their blows.”

Then they turned again upon the captives.  Several were still in the last throes; they were finished by the thrust of a heel in the mouth or a stab with the point of a javelin.

Then they thought of Gisco.  Nowhere could he be seen; they were disturbed with anxiety.  They wished at once to convince themselves of his death and to participate in it.  At last three Samnite shepherds discovered him at a distance of fifteen paces from the spot where Matho’s tent lately stood.  They recognised him by his long beard and they called the rest.