Then the pools of water multiplied.  The ground gradually became softer, and the feet sank in it.  Hamilcar did not turn back.  He went on still at their head; and his horse, which was yellow-spotted like a dragon, advanced into the mire flinging froth around him, and with great straining of the loins.  Night—­a moonless light—­fell.  A few cried out that they were about to perish; he snatched their arms from them, and gave them to the serving-men.  Nevertheless the mud became deeper and deeper.  Some had to mount the beasts of burden; others clung to the horses’ tails; the sturdy pulled the weak, and the Ligurian corps drove on the infantry with the points of their pikes.  The darkness increased.  They had lost their way.  All stopped.

Then some of the Suffet’s slaves went on ahead to look for the buoys which had been placed at intervals by his order.  They shouted through the darkness, and the army followed them at a distance.

At last they felt the resistance of the ground.  Then a whitish curve became dimly visible, and they found themselves on the bank of the Macaras.  In spite of the cold no fires were lighted.

In the middle of the night squalls of wind arose.  Hamilcar had the soldiers roused, but not a trumpet was sounded:  their captain tapped them softly on the shoulder.

A man of lofty stature went down into the water.  It did not come up to his girdle; it was possible to cross.

The Suffet ordered thirty-two of the elephants to be posted in the river a hundred paces further on, while the others, lower down, would check the lines of men that were carried away by the current; and holding their weapons above their heads they all crossed the Macaras as though between two walls.  He had noticed that the western wind had driven the sand so as to obstruct the river and form a natural causeway across it.

He was now on the left bank in front of Utica, and in a vast plain, the latter being advantageous for his elephants, which formed the strength of his army.

This feat of genius filled the soldiers with enthusiasm.  They recovered extraordinary confidence.  They wished to hasten immediately against the Barbarians; but the Suffet bade them rest for two hours.  As soon as the sun appeared they moved into the plain in three lines—­first came the elephants, and then the light infantry with the cavalry behind it, the phalanx marching next.

The Barbarians encamped at Utica, and the fifteen thousand about the bridge were surprised to see the ground undulating in the distance.  The wind, which was blowing very hard, was driving tornadoes of sand before it; they rose as though snatched from the soil, ascended in great light-coloured strips, then parted asunder and began again, hiding the Punic army the while from the Mercenaries.  Owing to the horns, which stood up on the edge of the helmets, some thought that they could perceive a herd of oxen; others, deceived by the motion of the cloaks, pretended