proceed far on his horse.  Having fought for a little while, Shakuni, the son of Subala, O monarch, went away from that spot with the remnant of his cavalry numbering 6,000.  Similarly, the Pandava force, covered with blood, and its animals fatigued, moved away from that spot with its remnant consisting of 6,000 horses.  The blood-stained horsemen of the Pandava army then, with hearts intent on battle and prepared to lay down their lives, said, “It is no longer possible to fight here on cars; how much more difficult then to fight here on elephants!  Let cars proceed against cars, and elephants against elephants!  Having retreated, Shakuni is now within his own division.  The royal son of Subala will not again come to battle.”  Then the sons of Draupadi and those infuriate elephants proceeded to the place where the Pancala prince Dhrishtadyumna, that great car-warrior, was.  Sahadeva also, when that dusty cloud arose, proceeded alone to where king Yudhishthira was.  After all those had gone away, Shakuni, the son of Subala, excited with wrath, once more fell upon Dhrishtadyumna’s division and began to strike it.  Once more a dreadful battle took place, in which the combatants were all regardless of their lives, between thy soldiers and those of the foe, all of whom were desirous of slaying one another.  In that encounter of heroes, the combatants first eyed one another steadfastly, and then rushed, O king, and fell upon one another in hundreds and thousands.  In that destructive carnage, heads severed with swords fell down with a noise like that of falling palmyra fruits.  Loud also became the noise, making the very hair to stand on end, of bodies falling down on the ground, divested of armour and mangled with weapons and of falling weapons also, O king, and of arms and thighs severed from the trunk.  Striking brothers and sons and even sires with keen weapons, the combatants were seen to fight like birds, for pieces of meat.  Excited with rage, thousands of warriors, falling upon one another, impatiently struck one another in that battle.  Hundreds and thousands of combatants, killed by the weight of slain horsemen while falling down from their steeds, fell down on the field.  Loud became the noise of neighing steeds of great fleetness, and of shouting men clad in mail, and of the falling darts and swords, O king, of combatants desirous of piercing the vitals of one another in consequence, O monarch, of thy evil policy.  At that time, thy soldiers, overcome with toil, spent with rage, their animals fatigued, themselves parched with thirst mangled with keen weapons, began to turn away from the battle.  Maddened with the scent of blood, many became so insensate that they slew friends and foes alike, in fact, every one they got at.  Large numbers of Kshatriyas, inspired with desire of victory, were struck down with arrows, O king, and fell prostrate on the Earth.  Wolves and vultures and jackals began to howl and scream in glee and make a loud noise.  In the very sight