ward! St. Michael and the Virgin!"

That mighty shout, followed as it was by a thunder of hooves, gave pause
to the advancing mercenaries. Masuccio's voice was heard, calling to
them to stand firm; bidding them kneel and ward the charge with
their pikes; assuring them with curses that they had but to deal with
half-dozen men. But the mountain echoes were delusive, and that thunder
of descending hooves seemed to them not of a half-dozen but of a
regiment. Despite Masuccio's imprecations the foremost turned, and in
that moment the riders were upon them, through them and over them, like
the mighty torrent of which Ferrabraccio had spoken.

A dozen Swiss went down beneath that onslaught, and another dozen that
had been swept aside and over the precipice were half-way to the valley
before that cavalcade met any check. Masuccio's remaining men strove
lustily to stem this human cataract, now that they realised how small
was the number of their assailants. They got their partisans to work,
and for a few moments the battle raged hot upon that narrow way. The air
was charged with the grind and ring of steel, the stamping of men and
horses and the shrieks and curses of the maimed.

The Lord of Aquila, ever foremost, fought desperately on. Not only with
his sword fought he, but with his horse as well. Rearing the beast on
its hind legs, he would swing it round and let it descend where least it
was expected, laying about him with his sword at the same time. In vain
they sought to bring down his charger with their pikes; so swift and
furious was his action, that before their design could be accomplished,
he was upon those that meditated it, scattering them out of reach to
save their skins.

In this ferocious manner he cleared a way before him, and luck served
him so well that what blows were wildly aimed at him as he dashed by
went wide of striking him. At last he was all but through the press, and
but three men now fronted him. Again his charger reared, snorting, and
pawing the air like a cat, and two of the three knaves before him fled
incontinently aside. But the third, who was of braver stuff, dropped on
one knee and presented his pike at the horse's belly. Francesco made a
wild attempt to save the roan that had served him so gallantly, but he
was too late. It came down to impale itself upon that waiting partisan.
With a hideous scream the horse sank upon its slayer, crushing him
beneath its mighty weight, and hurling its ride