Child as she was, little Gertrude understood well what was implied in those words, and a new light flashed into her eyes.  Something of the soldier spirit awoke within her, and she snatched at a small dagger Wendot carried in his belt, and drawing her small figure to its full height, she said: 

“We will both fight, Wendot; we will both fight, and both die rather than let them take us.”

He smiled, and just for a moment laid his hand upon her head; then he drew on his mailed gloves and looked well to the buckles of the stout leathern jerkin, almost as impervious to the stabs of his foes as a suit of mail itself.  The temper of his weapon he well knew; he had no fear that it would play him false.  He had not the headpiece of mail; he had started in too great a hurry to arm himself completely, and speed was too much an object for him to willingly encumber himself needlessly.  But as he skirted the narrow ledge, and placed himself beneath the protecting arch, he smiled grimly to himself, and thought that the stone would be as good a guard, and that here was a place where a man could sell his life dear, and send many a foe to his account before striking his own colours.

Scarcely had he well established himself in the commanding position he had resolved upon, when the sound of voices became more distinct.  The party had plainly arrived at the appointed place, and Wendot could hear them discussing who was best fitted for the task of traversing the dangerous ledge to bring back the captive who was to be found there.  The wild Welsh was unintelligible to Gertrude, or she would have known at once what dark treachery had been planned and carried out by her trusted companions; but Wendot’s cheek glowed with shame, and he set his teeth hard, resolved to redeem the honour of his father’s name to the last drop of his blood if he should be called upon to shed it in the cause.

He heard the slow and cautious steps approaching along the path, and he gripped his weapon more tightly in his hand.  The red light of battle was in his eyes, and the moment he caught sight of the form of the stalwart soldier threading his perilous way along the path he sprang upon him with a cry of fury, and hurled him into the gulf beneath.

Down fell the man, utterly unprepared for such an attack, and his sharp cry of terror was echoed from above by a dozen loud voices.

Cries and shouts and questions assailed Wendot, but he answered never a word.  Those above knew not if it had been an accident, or if an ambushed foe had hurled their comrade to destruction.  Again came a long pause for consideration —­ and every moment wasted was all in favour of the pair upon the ledge —­ and then it became plain that some course of action had been determined upon, and Wendot heard the cautious approach of another foe.  This man crept on his way much more cautiously, and the youth held himself ready for a yet more determined spring.  Luckily for him, he could remain hidden until his opponent was close to him; and so soon as he was certain from the sound that the man was reaching the angle of the rock, he made another dash, and brought down his sword with all the strength of his arm upon the head of the assailant.