The hours dragged on and on, till Menon with a sigh arose at last and entered his tent where he flung himself upon his couch of skins for an hour of sleep; but sleep came not, for his heart was heavy, and his thoughts trailed ever back to Nineveh and to her who lay in peril of a fate unknown. Then, presently, his eyelids drooped with a restless drowsiness wherein came tangled, half wakeful dreams through which he clambered up the walls of Zariaspa, while Ninus pushed him downward, laughing to see him fall. In the far, dim distance the voice of a woman stormed, sobbing because she might not reach his side; then, suddenly, Menon sat upright, listening, at the call of a sentry outside his tent. The flap was thrust aside, and Huzim entered, bearing a heavy burden in his arms.
When a torch was kindled, its light revealed a Bactrian spy whom Huzim had captured on the outskirts of the camp and whose limbs were bound with leathern thongs, for the Indian found less labor in bearing this spy upon his mighty back than in leading him, struggling, down a tedious defile.
The prisoner was questioned concerning his master, Oxyartes, but refused to speak. They scourged him, yet he bore the lash in silence, scowling at his enemies, till Huzim procured a torture iron, clamped it on the Bactrian's bare foot and turned the screws; then the wretch's spirit broke; he shrieked for mercy, promising to reveal all secrets which the Assyrians wished to learn. Menon nodded, and by a sign directed Huzim to keep the iron about the prisoner's foot, then he turned to the sufferer sternly:
"Speak," he commanded; "yet remember, fellow, that much is known to us, and for each false word that slips your tongue, this screw shall sink a hair's breadth into your ankle bone."
The threat proved potent; Menon learned, by swift, adroit questionings, that Oxyartes lay in wait for Ninus at the outlet of a deep defile on the ridge of the highest mountain pass, where, aided by rising ground and the towering cliffs on either side, he could crush the Assyrians, even as this devil's iron bit into a captive's foot.
Menon pondered thoughtfully, for the case was evil, demanding all his craft. Mayhap the captive lied, seeking to draw away another force from the baggage trains, when hidden mountaineers might pour into the valley, wrecking the machines of war and dealing a fatal blow to the plans of siege. On the other hand, should Ninus, in his overconfidence of strength, become entangled in the narrow gorge, then of a certainty Assyria's fate was sealed.