ery grasp.
Drawing my good sword I again made at him. Then came a terrible blow
upon my side, and I was shot from my saddle as a stone from a sling.
Some cowardly knave had borne down upon me from the right whilst I was
drawing my sword to attack my more worthy antagonist. His lance's
point had struck beneath mine arm, and 'twas to our good King Edward's
noble present that I owed my life.

I must have been stunned for a moment; for the next thing I knew of was
a knee upon my chest and a visored face bending o'er me.

"Now I will finish the work left incomplete when last we met." It was
Catesby.

In his hand he held a dagger, and now he drew it back to strike.

The only sensation I then felt was a curiosity to know how it would
feel to die. The stroke I cared not for; but yet I wondered, with a
kind of disinterestedness, how one would feel as the soul was parting
from the body. It must have been that my senses were still scattered,
or I had not acted thus. No resistance did I make; but with an
indifferent feeling awaited the fatal blow where my helm joined my
gorget.

All this could not have taken more time than does the lightning to fly
across the heavens; for still the dagger stayed poised in the air.

"Hark ye!" hissed Catesby in mine ear.

"Take with thee this message unto Hell. Say that I, Catesby, did send
thee to thy master, and that, unless the fortunes of the day be
changed, I'll not be long behind thee." Then up higher flew the
threatening blade. Then did it start on its downward course. It never
reached my throat. A great hand seized mine enemy by the wrist; back
flew the dagger-grasping hand until the arm snapped like a dry stick.
Catesby flew into the air as though drawn by a mighty loadstone. Then
was he hurled to the ground again with stunning force, and my great
Michael kneeled beside me.

"Art thou hurt, yer honour?" he asked anxiously.

"Nay, Michael; I got but a sudden fall that dazed me. 'Twas for a
moment only; now again do I feel a man." And with Michael's assistance
I arose to my feet.

Then Catesby stirred, and Michael was upon him in an instant; dagger in
hand, and drawn back for the fatal blow.

"Hold! hold, Michael! slay him not! I must question him!" I cried.

"Uh! bad luck to me fer a blunderin' fool; sure we must foind out whare
he has the dear lady kipt, ere we send the varmint to roast in sulphur."

"Come, Master Catesby, our late respective positions are now