apparently with
reckless bravery men rushed out of the darkness to seize the horsemen's
reins, with the result that the King struck at the nearest a downward
blow with the hilt of his sword, which took effect full in the man's
face, so that he sank with a groan, while, drawing back his arm, the
King's second movement was to give point, running the next man through
the shoulder, and he fell back.

Saint Simon's actions were much the same, but in reverse, for he thrust
first, and equally successfully; while Denis sat supine, the feeling
upon him strong that he was a helpless heavy log to his companions, and
in their way.

So successful was the resistance to the attack that for the moment the
way seemed open, and the boy's breast began to throb with excitement as
he felt that they had won. But they had only dealt with four, and as
they were urging on their horses once again at least a dozen were ready
to stay their progress, while with a loud shout of triumph four mounted
men came up in their rear to hem the trio in.

"Give point! Give point!" roared the King, setting the example, and
every thrust seemed to tell; but where one enemy went down there seemed
to be three or four more to take his place, and in the darkness there
was a _melee_ of writhing, struggling men hanging on to the panting,
snorting horses and regardless of the keen steel, striving to drag the
wielders down.

"It's all over with us," thought Denis, and a chill of despair seemed to
clutch his heart, as he rose in his stirrups and, dagger in hand,
strove, but in vain, to give some aid to his two defenders, who were
growing breathless with their exertions and hampered and overpowered by
their foes.

The horses, too, were becoming frantic, and reared and plunged, greatly
to the riders' disadvantage, but advantage too, for more than one of the
assailants fell back from the blows struck by their hoofs, to be
trampled the next moment under foot; and then amidst yells, threats, and
savage cries, there was a fresh shout of triumph, for on either side the
defenders' arms were held, and but for the way in which the well-trained
horses pressed together, both the King and Saint Simon would have been
pulled from their saddles.

Just at this crucial moment, in the midst of the lull which followed the
triumphal yell, there was the loud trampling of hoofs upon the hard road
in front, the shouting of a war-cry--"France! France!"--seemed to cut
through the darkn