"What is it?"
"I see now," said the man. "There are some armed with clubs, and they are beating the people. They are dressed like Jews."
"Who are they?"
"Romans, as the Lord liveth! Romans in disguise. Their clubs fly like flails! There, I saw a rabbi struck down—an old man! They spare nobody!"
Ben-Hur let the man down.
"Men of Galilee," he said, "it is a trick of Pilate’s. Now, will you do what I say, we will get even with the club-men."
The Galilean spirit arose.
"Yes, yes!" they answered.
"Let us go back to the trees by the gate, and we may find the planting of Herod, though unlawful, has some good in it after all. Come!"
They ran back all of them fast as they could; and, by throwing their united weight upon the limbs, tore them from the trunks. In a brief time they, too, were armed. Returning, at the corner of the square they met the crowd rushing madly for the gate. Behind, the clamor continued—a medley of shrieks, groans, and execrations.
"To the wall!" Ben-Hur shouted. "To the wall!—and let the herd go by!"
So, clinging to the masonry at their right hand, they escaped the might of the rush, and little by little made headway until, at last, the square was reached.
"Keep together now, and follow me!"
By this time Ben-Hur’s leadership was perfect; and as he pushed into the seething mob his party closed after him in a body. And when the Romans, clubbing the people and making merry as they struck them down, came hand to hand with the Galileans, lithe of limb, eager for the fray, and equally armed, they were in turn surprised. Then the shouting was close and fierce; the crash of sticks rapid and deadly; the advance furious as hate could make it. No one performed his part as well as Ben-Hur, whose training served him admirably; for, not merely he knew to strike and guard; his long arm, perfect action, and in-
