It was a terrible moment for good John de Brocas, already wearied and ready to drop with the exertions of the fight —­ exertions to which he was but little habituated —­ when he saw bearing down upon them the gigantic forms, as they looked to him, of these three black-browed brothers.  The Prince had separated himself somewhat from the rest of the band.  He and his three immediate followers had been pursuing some fugitives, who had fallen a prey to their good steel blades.  They were just about to return to the others, round whom the fight still raged, though with far less fierceness than at first, when these new adversaries set upon them from behind.  John was the only one who had seen the approach, and he only just in time to give one warning shout.  Before the Prince could turn, an axe was whirling in the air above his head; and had not John flung himself at that instant upon the Prince, covering his person and dragging him aside at the same moment, a glorious page in England’s history would never have been written.  But John’s prompt action saved the young Edward’s life, though a frightful gash was inflicted upon his own shoulder, which received the weight of the robber’s blow.  With a gasping moan he sank to the ground, and knew no more of what passed, whilst Gaston and Raymond each sprang upon one of their assailants with a yell of fury, and the Prince flung himself upon the fellow who had so nearly caused his death, and for all he knew had slain the trusty John before his very eyes.

The Prince soon made sure of his man.  The fellow, having missed his stroke, was taken at a disadvantage, and was unable to free his axe or draw his dagger before the Prince had stabbed him to the heart.  Gaston and Raymond were sore beset with their powerful adversaries, and would scarce have lived to tell the tale of that fell struggle had not help been nigh at hand from the Master Huntsman.  But he, missing the Prince from the cave’s mouth, and seeing the peril he was in, now came running up, shouting to his men to follow him, and the three giant brothers were soon lying together stark and dead, whilst poor John was tenderly lifted and carried out of the melee.

The fighting was over now.  The robbers had had enough of it.  Some few had escaped, or had sought to do so; but by far the greater number lay dead on or about the rocky platform, where the fiercest of the fighting had been.  They had slain each other as well as having been slain by the Prince’s band, and the place was now a veritable shambles, at which some of the lads began to look with shuddering horror.

Several of their own number were badly hurt.  Three lay dead and cold.  Victory had indeed been theirs, but something of the sense of triumph was dashed as they bore away the bodies of their comrades and looked upon the terrible traces of the fray.

But the Prince had escaped unscathed —­ that was the point of paramount importance in the minds of many —­ and he was now engrossed in striving to relieve the sufferings of his wounded comrades by seeing their wounds skilfully bound up by the huntsmen, and obtaining for them draughts of clear cold water from a spring that bubbled up within the cavern itself.