g of the axe. And in this I
became exceedingly expert. And how difficult it is no one knows till he
has tried.

So it is small wonder that as soon as I gripped the noble broadaxe which
Helene passed me I felt my own man again.

Then we were silent and listened--and ever again listened and held our
breaths. Now I tell you when an enemy is whispering unseen without,
rustling like rats in straw, and you wonder at what point they will break
in next, thinking all the while of the woman you love (or do not yet
love, but may) in the chamber behind--I tell you a castle is something
less difficult to hold at such a time than just one's own breath.

Suddenly I heard a sound in the outer chamber which I knew the meaning
of. It was the shifting of horses' feet as they turn in narrow space to
leave their stalls. Our good friends were making free with our steeds.
And, if we were not quick about it, we should soon see the last of them,
and be compelled to traverse the rest of the road to Plassenburg upon our
own proper feet.

"Jorian," cried I, "do you hear? They are slipping our horses out of the
stalls! Shall you and I make a sortie against them, while Boris with that
pistol of his keeps the passage from the wicks of the middle door?"

"Good!" answered Jorian. "Give the word when you are ready."

With axe in my right hand, the handle of the door in my left, I gave
the signal.

"When I say 'Three!' Jorian!"

"Good!" said Jorian.

Clatter went the horses' hoofs as they were being led towards the door.

"One! Two! Three!" I counted, softly but clearly.

CHAPTER XXIV

THE SORTIE

The door was open, and the next I mind was my axe whirling about my head
and Jorian rushing out of the other door a step ahead of me, with his
broadsword in his hand. I cannot tell much about the fight. I never could
all my days. And I wot well that those who can relate such long
particulars of tales of fighting are the folk who stood at a distance and
labored manfully at the looking on--not of them that were close in and
felt the hot breaths and saw the death-gleam in fierce, desperate eyes,
near to their own as the eyes of lovers when they embrace. Ah, Brothers
of the Sword, these things cannot be told! Yet, of a surety, there is a
heady delight in the fray itself. And so I found. For I struck and warded
not, that being scarce necessary. Because an axe is an uncanny weapon to
wield, but still harder to stand against when well used. And