The students of Rabbi Akiva were traveling along a road when a band of robbers fell in with them. The bandits were watching closely to see which way the students were heading so they could ambush them farther along.
The disciples had learned enough from their master to know that a confrontation would not end well. Instead of arguing or pleading, they simply walked together with the robbers, chatting lightly and pretending that their road ran in the same direction as the thieves'. They strolled as if they had every intention of keeping the company.
After a long stretch, once the road reached a fork where splitting off would seem casual rather than panicked, the students said their goodbyes and took the other branch. By the time the robbers realized they had been led past the point of ambush, the disciples were safely on a different road and could not be tracked (Gaster, Exempla No. 66).
Akiva's pupils did not outfight the thieves. They outwaited them. The lesson the sages draw from the moment is that wisdom, in a dangerous hour, looks nothing like heroism. It looks like a quiet walk and a well-chosen fork in the road.