cending the slope, and his men were
approaching menacingly, spurred on by a shower of oaths, threats, and
abuse from their leader.

"Well, I suppose we must; but my blood's up now," said Mark, "and I hate
running from such a set of curs."

"So do I," said Ralph; "it's like being beaten, when we won. I say,
were you hurt?"

"Only where you jobbed that sword of yours into my leg. Phew! it's
getting stiffer every moment. I shan't be able to walk directly. Were
you?"

"What, hurt? No, only where you scratched me."

"It was pretty deep, then, for your sleeve's soaked. Here, let me tie
my handkerchief round it."

"No, no," said Ralph; "they'll overtake us. Let's make a run for it
now."

"Shall we?" said Mark unwillingly.

"Yes, we must. I can't use my arm any more."

"Well, I don't think I can run much farther."

"You must," cried Ralph, sharply as he looked over his shoulder. "We're
not fit to fight."

He thrust his sound arm through Mark's, and they ran on pretty swiftly
for a hundred yards or so, with the enemy in full pursuit, and then Mark
stopped suddenly.

"Can't go--any farther," he said. "My leg's awful."

Ralph looked round, to find that the men had given up the pursuit, and
were going back.

"Can we catch your pony?" he said.

"I think so. He's grazing yonder."

"Would he let me catch him?"

"No," said Mark. "He'd be off directly. There, I think I can hobble on
now for a bit. What! are they coming again?"

"No; only watching us," said Ralph rather faintly. "Would you mind
tying that tightly round my arm?"

For answer, Mark seized the handkerchief Ralph held out, and knotted it
last round his companion's arm.

"Now let me do something to your leg."

"No; it doesn't bleed now," said Mark. "Let's get on. If they see us
crippled, they'll come on again, and if they do I'm good for nothing.
It doesn't bleed; it only feels of no use. There, let's get on. Are
they watching us?"

"No, I think not. It's getting so dark there. I say; I can see they're
lifting one of the men to carry him."

"Wish some one would carry me," groaned Mark.

"I don't think I can," said Ralph. "Perhaps I could, though, if you
could hold on."

"Bah!" cried Mark sharply. "Likely. Come on, and I'll coax that beast
of a pony. If I can only get hold of him, I'll make him carry us both."

They pressed on in silence, Mark using his sword as a walking-stick with
one hand, and compelled to accept