“We’d better move, Hal,” said Chester, “or we shall have to fight whether we want to or not.”

Hal signified his assent with a nod of his head, and they turned their horses’ heads to ride out of harm’s way.

But they had delayed too long.

From behind them came a loud, terrible, blood-curdling shout, and gazing quickly about, the lads saw that they were directly in the road of large cavalry reinforcements that were being rushed forward to the support of the hard-pressed men in front.

“Quick, Chester!” cried Hal, and put spurs to his horse.

But it was too late.

The Italian cavalry was upon them, and rather than be thrown down and trampled, the lads were forced to turn their horses in with the troop; and thus they were carried along like a whirlwind in the very front rank of the charge, and Hal, glancing to his left, felt a sudden sense of satisfaction as he saw that the man who led this desperate charge was none other than Colonel Harry Anderson, his old companion in arms, the man by whose side both he and Chester had faced death more than once.

Hal’s hand dropped to his belt, and his revolver came forth in his left hand.  The reins he allowed to fall loose upon his horse’s neck, while with his right hand he drew his sword.  Chester, with the light of battle in his eyes, was already prepared.

The horses of the two boys darted forward with the rest of the troop, their ears standing straight up, their manes bristling, their nostrils extended.

Now the troop came close upon the cavalry already engaged; and these men, despite their seeming confusion, parted as though by a prearranged plan, and the reinforcements passed through, and fell upon the enemy with an impact that was not to be denied.  Behind, the first troop reformed and now came forward in support.

And once more Hal and Chester found themselves in the midst of battle.

Just before the impact, and as Colonel Anderson brandished his sword aloft and urged his men on with a shouted command, Hal discharged his revolver at a tall Austrian who had taken deliberate aim at Colonel Anderson.  The man threw up his hands and with a wild yell toppled beneath the feet of the plunging horses, there to be trampled to death if Hal’s bullet had not been enough.

One volley was poured into the Austrians at a command from Colonel Anderson, and then the Italians were upon the foe with drawn sabers.  A single volley from the Austrians proved ineffective; Hal and Chester and the commander of the troop were unscathed and the Austrians had no time for another.

Chester parried a blow aimed at him by an Austrian cavalryman, and raising his pistol quickly, toppled him from his horse with a bullet.  A second ploughed its way through the chest of another trooper and with his sword the lad caught a blow that at that moment would have descended upon Hal’s head.

And so the fighting went, cut, thrust, parry and strike, with an occasional revolver shot in between; and Hal, Chester, and Colonel Anderson, in some miraculous manner, escaping injury.