olding by the
stirrups, going cheerfully to death, rather than seek safety in shameful
flight.

Suddenly a burst of cheering in a foreign tongue reached us. "Hurrah!
Hurrah! For the Admiral!" and a troop of horse came tearing down. It was
the band of gallant Englishmen, and I recognized Roger Braund still
bearing the captured trophy. Fearing they might mistake us for royalists
I rode forward hastily, crying in English, "Friends! Friends! We are
Huguenots!"

CHAPTER XII

The Return to Rochelle

The conference was brief. "Have you seen Count Louis?" I asked their
leader.

"No, monsieur, but we will help you to find him. Forward, brave boys;
another blow for the Cause!"

They replied with a cheer--oh, how those Englishmen cheered!--and we
raced on together, French and English, side by side, and death all
around us. I glanced at Roger; he had been wounded again, but there was
no time to speak.

The retreat in this part of the field had not become general; numbers of
soldiers in tolerably good order were still battling stubbornly, and
presently we reached the remnant of several troops of cavalry.

In front of them was the venerable Count of St. Cyr, his snow-white
beard sweeping to his waist.

"My lord," I said, riding up, "can you tell me where to find Count Louis
of Nassau?"

"Farther on the right, monsieur," he replied courteously; "but you will
find it difficult to reach him. Ah, here they come!" and, glancing
ahead, I perceived a cloud of horsemen preparing to swoop down upon us.

"Pray, my lord," pleaded his chaplain, who was close by, "say something
to encourage your troops. They are faint and weary with fighting, and
the odds against them are terrible."

The stout-hearted warrior turned to his followers. "Brave men need no
words!" he cried; "do as you see me do!" and they greeted his speech
with frantic cheers.

"You will be lucky to meet Count Louis after this!" cried Roger, as I
returned to my men.

The royalists swept forward, threatening to engulf us as the wild sea
swallows a tiny boat, and I must admit that my heart sank at sight of
them. But I was in the company of brave men, and following the flag of
as brave a leader as could be found in all France.

He glanced round at us; there was a proud smile on his resolute face;
his eyes glowed with fiery ardour.

"Charge, my children!" he cried, "and strike a last blow for St. Cyr!"

He pressed his horse's sides with the spurs, and wav