We gazed in astonishment at the spectacle, wondering what it meant, until Felix cried out, “’Tis the Englishman!  ’Tis Roger Braund.  He has captured the flag!”

A great roar of cheering went up as he approached us, his helmet gone, his face bleeding, his doublet slashed, but his eyes smiling cheerfully.  With an easy grace he jumped from his horse, and advancing on foot presented the trophy to the Admiral.

“A memento of the battle-field, my lord,” he said, with a courteous bow.

Coligny took the flag, and with a rare smile handed it back, saying, “Monsieur, it could not remain in worthier hands!  Let it be carried in the ranks of your gallant countrymen, to whom we owe so much.”

Roger bowed again.  “The memory of your praise my lord,” said he, “will nerve us to deserve it.”

As we rode back toward the river, every one tried to get near him, to shake his hand, to praise him for his deed of daring.  And in truth it was a splendid action!  Single-handed, he had charged into the press; single-handed he had wrested the trophy by from its custodian; and, still alone, had fought his way out.  It was a brilliant feat, which we of the Religion talked of round many a camp fire.  And that it was done by one who was not our countryman did not lessen our admiration.

CHAPTER XI

A Desperate Conflict

We had crossed the Dive safely, the cavalry last of all, and the soldiers, wearied by their long marches, had thrown themselves down to snatch a brief rest.  The enemy were assembling on the opposite bank of the river, and it was plain that they had been heavily reinforced.

“Monseigneur must have arrived with his troops,” said Felix.  “I hope the Admiral will offer him battle.  The victory over Montpensier has put our fellows in fine fettle; they would fight now with a good heart.”

“The enemy have us at a disadvantage,” said Roger.  “You forget our guns are at Montcontour.”

A surgeon had dressed his wounds; he had borrowed a helmet from a comrade, and had changed his doublet.  His left arm troubled him somewhat, but otherwise he suffered no ill effects from his famous fight for the flag.

“They outnumber us, too,” said I, “especially in their cavalry, and Anjou’s gentlemen are no mean sworders.”

“But we must fight at some time or other; we cannot wander about the country for ever!” laughed Felix.  “It seems to me we have been playing at hide-and-seek with Anjou ever since leaving Poictiers.  And let me whisper another thing—­the Germans are beginning to grumble.”

“That,” said Roger, “is a serious matter.  What is their grievance?”

“Money!  Their pay has fallen into arrears, and I don’t see how it is to be made up.  The Admiral has almost ruined himself for the Cause already.  ’Tis a pity we cannot capture Anjou’s money chests; they would be worth having. Corbleu! the bugle is sounding!  That means there is to be no battle.”