The Barbarians slackened their speed.

They marched on in isolated detachments, or lagged behind one another at long intervals.  They ate grapes along the margin of the vines.  They lay on the grass and gazed with stupefaction upon the large, artificially twisted horns of the oxen, the sheep clothed with skins to protect their wool, the furrows crossing one another so as to form lozenges, and the ploughshares like ships’ anchors, with the pomegranate trees that were watered with silphium.  Such wealth of the soil and such inventions of wisdom dazzled them.

In the evening they stretched themselves on the tents without unfolding them; and thought with regret of Hamilcar’s feast, as they fell asleep with their faces towards the stars.

In the middle of the following day they halted on the bank of a river, amid clumps of rose-bays.  Then they quickly threw aside lances, bucklers and belts.  They bathed with shouts, and drew water in their helmets, while others drank lying flat on their stomachs, and all in the midst of the beasts of burden whose baggage was slipping from them.

Spendius, who was seated on a dromedary stolen in Hamilcar’s parks, perceived Matho at a distance, with his arm hanging against his breast, his head bare, and his face bent down, giving his mule drink, and watching the water flow.  Spendius immediately ran through the crowd calling him, “Master! master!”

Matho gave him but scant thanks for his blessings, but Spendius paid no heed to this, and began to march behind him, from time to time turning restless glances in the direction of Carthage.

He was the son of a Greek rhetor and a Campanian prostitute.  He had at first grown rich by dealing in women; then, ruined by a shipwreck, he had made war against the Romans with the herdsmen of Samnium.  He had been taken and had escaped; he had been retaken, and had worked in the quarries, panted in the vapour-baths, shrieked under torture, passed through the hands of many masters, and experienced every frenzy.  At last, one day, in despair, he had flung himself into the sea from the top of a trireme where he was working at the oar.  Some of Hamilcar’s sailors had picked him up when at the point of death, and had brought him to the ergastulum of Megara, at Carthage.  But, as fugitives were to be given back to the Romans, he had taken advantage of the confusion to fly with the soldiers.

During the whole of the march he remained near Matho; he brought him food, assisted him to dismount, and spread a carpet in the evening beneath his head.  Matho at last was touched by these attentions, and by degrees unlocked his lips.

He had been born in the gulf of Syrtis.  His father had taken him on a pilgrimage to the temple of Ammon.  Then he had hunted elephants in the forests of the Garamantes.  Afterwards he had entered the service of Carthage.  He had been appointed tetrarch at the capture of Drepanum.  The Republic owed him four horses, twenty-three medimni of wheat, and a winter’s pay.  He feared the gods, and wished to die in his native land.