distance behind.

Greatly astonished at the strange thing that was befalling him, yet not,
so far, alarmed for his personal safety, Raymond drew his sword and
looked steadily round at the ring of men surrounding him.

"Cease to interfere with my horse, gentlemen," he said, in stern though
courteous accents. "It may be your pleasure thus to ride away from the
battle, but it is not mine; and I will ask of you to let me take my way
whilst you take yours. Why you desire my company I know not, but I do
not longer desire yours; wherefore forbear!"

Not a word or a sign was vouchsafed him in answer; but as he attempted
to rein back his panting horse, now fairly exhausted with the struggle
between the conflicting wills of so many persons, the dark silent riders
continued to urge him forward with open blows and pricks from sword
point, till, as he saw that his words were still unheeded, a dangerous
glitter shone in Raymond's eyes.

"Have a care how you molest me, gentlemen!" he said, in clear, ringing
tones. "Ye are carrying a jest (if jest it be meant for) a little too
far. The next who dares to touch my horse must defend himself from my
sword."

And then a sudden change came over the bearing of his companions. A
dozen swords sprang from their scabbards. A score of harsh voices
replied to these words in fierce accents of defiance. One -- two --
three heavy blows fell upon his head; and though he set his teeth and
wheeled about to meet and grapple with his foes, he felt from the first
moment that he had no chance whatever against such numbers, and that the
only thing to do was to sell his life as dearly as he could.

There was no time to ask or even to wonder at the meaning of this
mysterious attack. All he could do was to strive to shield his head from
the blows that rained upon him, and breathe a prayer for succour in the
midst of his urgent need.

And then he heard a voice speaking in accents of authority: where had he
heard that voice before?

"Hold, men! have I not warned you to do him no hurt? Kill him not, but
take him alive."

That was the last thing Raymond remembered. His next sensation was of
falling and strangulation. Then a blackness swam before his eyes, and
sense and memory alike fled.

CHAPTER XXIII. IN THE HANDS OF HIS FOE.

How long that blackness and darkness lasted Raymond never really knew.
It seemed to him that he awoke from it at occasional long intervals,
always to find himself dre