In the glare of them, Hokosa could see that already a full two-thirds of the crowd of fugitives had passed the narrow arch; while Nodwengo and the soldiers were drawn up in companies upon the steep and rocky slope that led to it, protecting their retreat.
He advanced to the king and reported himself.
"So you have lived through it," said Nodwengo.
"I shall die when my hour comes, and not before," Hokosa answered.

"We did well yonder, and yet the most of us are alive to tell the tale, for I knew when and how to go.

Be ready, king, for the foe press us close, and that mob behind us crawls onward like a snail." As he spoke the pursuers broke through the fence and gate of the burning town, and once more the fight began.

They had the advantage of numbers; but Nodwengo and his troops stood in a wide road upon higher ground protected on either side by walls, and were, moreover, rested, not breathless and weary with travel like the men of Hafela.

Slowly, fighting, every inch of the way, Nodwengo was pushed back, and slowly the long ant-like line of women and sick and cattle crept through the opening in the rock, till at length all of them were gone.
"It is time," said Nodwengo, glancing behind him, "for our arms grow weary." Then he gave orders, and company by company the defending force followed on the path of the fugitives, till at length amidst a roar of rage and disappointment, the last of them vanished through the arch, Hokosa among them, and the place was blocked with stones, above which shone a hedge of spears..