“Monseigneur may have something to say to that,” remarked Roger, as he walked off toward his own comrades.

In a short time the troops had fallen in, and the infantry at a swinging pace marched off the ground, the cavalry as before forming the rearguard.  The evening was neither clear nor dull, there being just sufficient light to enable us to see our way.  St. Cyr’s troop, and the body of Englishmen, now, alas! sadly reduced in numbers, rode last of all, and occasionally one of the troopers would gallop up to our leader with information of the enemy’s movements.

We appeared to have gained a good start, as it was not until noon of the next day that our rearguard was driven in, and we got a clear view of the hostile troops.  They followed us closely, hanging like leeches on our rear, but refraining from making any determined attack.  Still, in order to protect our own main body, we were forced several times to turn at bay.  In these combats the fiercest fighting always centred round the troop of Englishmen carrying the captured flag.

“Roger is a gallant fellow,” I remarked after one of these occasions, “but too venturesome.  It would be more prudent to hide the trophy.”

“Faith!” cried Felix, “you have strange ideas!  I would hold it as high as I could, till my arm was numbed.  I hear they have hung our banners in Notre Dame, so that the Parisians may see what fine fellows they are.  If I could capture a flag, Edmond, they should cut me in little pieces before I let it go.  Were I your English friend I would not change places with Coligny himself.”

“Well,” I said laughing, “you may have a chance to obtain your wish soon, for, whether it pleases our leaders or not, they will be compelled to fight.  This retreat cannot continue much longer.  And if the Germans desert us, there is likely to be a second Jarnac.”

“Rubbish!” exclaimed he lightly; “we should gain the greater honour by the victory!”

Our German allies had become very sullen during the last day or two, and the evening we reached Montcontour they broke out into open threats.  They declared angrily that unless their arrears of pay were immediately made up they would not fight.

The evening was almost as miserable as that after the battle of Jarnac.  Monseigneur, with a strong, well-equipped army, was close on our heels, ready to swoop down upon us at any moment.  Our own men were weary and disheartened, and now we had to contend with the anger of our allies.

“Let the poltroons go!” exclaimed Felix scornfully.  “We will fight and win without them,” and all the young hot-heads among our comrades applauded him.  But the veterans were wiser, and openly showed their pleasure when it was announced that our leader had, by another splendid sacrifice, appeased his mutinous followers.  But, even with the Germans ready to do their duty, our prospects seemed to me far from rosy, and I found that Roger Braund held the same view.