Proceeding to Neufchatel and Aumale, he soon found himself in the neighbourhood of the Leaguers, and it was not long before skirmishing began.  At this time, on a memorable occasion, Henry, forgetting as usual, in his eagerness for the joys of the combat that he was not a young captain of cavalry with his spurs to win by dashing into every mad adventure that might present itself, but a king fighting for his crown, with the welfare of a whole people depending on his fortunes, thought proper to place himself at the head of a handful of troopers to reconnoitre in person the camp of the Leaguers.  Starting with five hundred horse, and ordering Lavardin and Givry to follow with a larger body, while the Dukes of Nevers and Longueville were to move out, should it prove necessary, in force, the king rode forth as merrily as to a hunting party, drove in the scouts and pickets of the confederated armies, and, advancing still farther in his investigations, soon found himself attacked by a cavalry force of the enemy much superior to his own.  A skirmish began, and it was necessary for the little troop to beat a hasty retreat, fighting as it ran.  It was not long before Henry was recognised by the enemy, and the chase became all the more lively; George Basti, the famous Albanian trooper, commanding the force which pressed most closely upon the king.  The news spread to the camp of the League that the Bearnese was the leader of the skirmishers.  Mayenne believed it, and urged the instant advance of the flying squadron and of the whole vanguard.  Farnese refused.  It was impossible that the king should be there, he said, doing picket duty at the head of a company.  It was a clumsy ambush to bring on a general engagement in the open field, and he was not to be drawn out of his trenches into a trap by such a shallow device.  A French captain, who by command of Henry had purposely allowed himself to be taken, informed his captors that the skirmishers were in reality supported by a heavy force of infantry.  This suggestion of the ready Bearnese confirmed the doubts of Alexander.  Meantime the skirmishing steeplechase went on before his eyes.  The king dashing down a hill received an arquebus shot in his side, but still rode for his life.  Lavardin and Givry came to the rescue, but a panic seized their followers as the rumour flew that the king was mortally wounded—­was already dead—­so that they hardly brought a sufficient force to beat back the Leaguers.  Givry’s horse was soon killed under him, and his own thigh crushed; Lavardin was himself dangerously wounded.  The king was more hard pressed than ever, men were falling on every side of him, when four hundred French dragoons—­as a kind of musketeers who rode on hacks to the scene of action but did their work on foot, were called at that day—­now dismounted and threw themselves between Henry and his pursuers.  Nearly every man of them laid down his life, but they saved the king’s.  Their vigorous hand to hand fighting kept off the assailants until Nevers and Longueville received the king at the gates of Aumale with a force before which the Leaguers were fain to retreat as rapidly as they had come.