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.

His lions sprang forward, and carried confusion into the hosts that were crowding down upon him, for many of their horses became unmanageable at the roar of the furious brutes, overthrew the chariots, and so hemmed the advance of the troops in the rear.  Rameses sent arrow after arrow, while Mena covered him with the shield from the shots of the enemy.  His horses meanwhile had carried him forward, and he could fell the foremost of the Asiatics with his battle-axe; close by his side fought Rameri and three other princes; in front of him were the lions.

The press was fearful, and the raging of the battle wild and deafening, like the roar of the surging ocean when it is hurled by a hurricane against a rocky coast.

Mena seemed to be in two places at once, for, while he guided the horses forwards, backwards, or to either hand, as the exigences of the position demanded, not one of the arrows shot at the king touched him.  His eye was everywhere, the shield always ready, and not an eyelash of the young hero trembled, while Rameses, each moment more infuriated, incited his lions with wild war-cries, and with flashing eyes advanced farther and farther into the enemy’s ranks.

Three arrows aimed, not at the king but at Mena himself, were sticking in the charioteer’s shield, and by chance he saw written on the shaft of one of them the words “Death to Mena.”

A fourth arrow whizzed past him.  His eye followed its flight, and as he marked the spot whence it had come, a fifth wounded his shoulder, and he cried out to the king: 

“We are betrayed!  Look over there!  Paaker is fighting with the Cheta.”