‘ But Barak pursued after the chariots, and after the host, as far as Harosheth of the Nations. And all the host of Sisera fell by the edge of the sword and there was not a man left.'
Some of the chariots were able to get themselves clear of the mud and escape, which was the only thing now on their minds, while the footsoldiers also fled, hindering the chariots. That proud and powerful army, with its mighty chariots, that had swept so triumphantly and confidently on to the plain by Kishon, now fled, a bedraggled, mud-bespattered, broken and totally spent force, prey to the flashing blades of the men of Naphtali and Zebulun who followed with blazing eyes and triumphant cries.
“There was not a man left.” That is, that they could find to slaughter. They killed all that they could find. But there was at least one who had escaped their flashing blades, who fled for his life, seeking refuge.