The deluded Carthaginians were several times entangled in their midst.

They would stand stupidly motionless, or else would back, surge again, and triumphant shouts rising in the distance seemed to drive them along like derelicts in a storm.

Hamilcar was growing desperate; all was about to perish beneath the genius of Matho and the invincible courage of the Mercenaries.
But a great noise of tabourines burst forth on the horizon.

It was a crowd of old men, sick persons, children of fifteen years of age, and even women, who, being unable to withstand their distress any longer, had set out from Carthage, and, for the purpose of placing themselves under the protection of something formidable, had taken from Hamilcar's palace the only elephant that the Republic now possessed,--that one, namely, whose trunk had been cut off.
Then it seemed to the Carthaginians that their country, forsaking its walls, was coming to command them to die for her.

They were seized with increased fury, and the Numidians carried away all the rest.
The Barbarians had set themselves with their backs to a hillock in the centre of the plain.