“Ride him down!” cried the leader, and once more the two ruffians attacked me furiously.  One of them paid the penalty of his recklessness.  With a rapid lunge I got beneath his guard, and my sword passed between his ribs.  He fell forward on his horse’s neck, groaning, and I cried exultingly, “Courage, Jacques!  Two to two!”

But disaster followed swiftly on the heels of my triumph.  A half-suppressed cry of pain came from my comrade, and I saw his horse roll over.  Warding off a blow from my opponent, I turned and attacked the cavalier so hotly that he was forced back several paces, and Jacques disengaged himself from the fallen animal.

“Look to yourself, monsieur,” he said, “I still count.”

I had only a momentary glimpse of him as he staggered to his feet, but the sight was not encouraging.  His face was covered with blood, his left arm hung limply at his side, and he had received a wound in the shoulder.  But in spite of his injuries he faced his opponent boldly, using his horse’s body as some sort of protection.

“Yield!” cried the cavalier, “and I will spare your lives.  You are brave fellows.”

“Fight on, monsieur,” said Jacques stolidly.

“As you will,” exclaimed the other, and once more the clash of steel broke on the air.

How would it end?  The contest was going steadily against us.  I could easily hold my opponent in check, but Jacques was seriously wounded; he was on foot, and must inevitably be beaten.  I thought once of riding off in the hope of drawing the others after me, but they might stop to kill my comrade, and that I dared not risk.

He still fought with his accustomed skill, but he was becoming weaker every minute; he could no longer attack, and had much ado to defend himself.  Our sole chance lay in disabling my opponent before Jacques was over-powered.  I rode at him recklessly, but he was a wary knave, and, judging how matters were likely to go, he remained on the defensive.

We were still battling vigorously, though I was fast losing all hope, when the tramp of hoofs sounded in the distance.  Who were the travellers?  They could not make our situation worse; they might improve it.  Our assailants seemed to be of the same opinion, and, leaving Jacques, they flung themselves at me.

Could I hold out a few minutes longer?  I set my teeth hard, and braced myself for the effort.  Twice the unknown cavalier missed my breast by a hair’s breadth; but I was still unwounded, save for a slight scratch, when a body of mounted men turned the bend in the road.  They appeared to be a nobleman’s bodyguard, and wore blue favours, but this told me nothing.

Jacques, however, was better informed.  “Lord St. Cyr!” he cried feebly.  “For the Admiral!” and sank to the ground.

Echoing my comrade’s words, I cried lustily, “For the Admiral!” at which the gentlemen set spurs to their horses, while our assailants as hastily rode off.