ch at having left him, however inadvertently, to bear the
brunt of the battle alone. But search as he would he found nothing
either of Raymond or Roger, and a new fear entered into his mind.

"Can he have been taken prisoner?"

This did not seem highly probable. The French, bold enough at the outset
when they had believed themselves secure of an easy victory, had changed
their front mightily when they had discovered the trap set for them by
their foes, and in the end had thought of little save how to save their
own lives. They would scarce have burdened themselves with prisoners,
least of all with one who did not even hold the rank of knight. This
disappearance of his brother was perplexing Gaston not a little. He
looked across the moonlit plain, now almost as light as day, a cloud of
pain and bewilderment upon his face.

"By Holy St. Anthony, where can the boy be?" he cried.

Then one of his men-at-arms came up and spoke.

"When we were pursuing the French here to the left, back towards their
own lines, I saw a second struggle going on away to the right. The
knight with the black visor seemed to be leading that pursuit, and
though I could not watch it, as I had my own work to do here, I know
that some of our men took a different line, there along by yon ridge to
the right."

"Let us go thither and search there," said Gaston, with prompt decision,
"for plainly my brother is not here. It may be he has been following
another flying troop. We will up and after him. Look well as you ride if
there be any prostrate figures lying in the path. I fear me he may have
been wounded in the rout, else surely he would not have stayed away so
long."

Turning his horse round, and closely followed by his men, Gaston rode
off in the direction pointed out by his servant. It became plain that
there had been fighting of some sort along this line, for a few dead and
wounded soldiers, all Frenchmen, lay upon the ground at intervals.
Nothing, however, could be seen of Raymond, and for a while nothing of
Roger either; but just as Gaston was beginning to despair of finding
trace of either, he beheld in the bright moonlight a figure staggering
along in a blind and helpless fashion towards them, and spurring rapidly
forward to meet it, he saw that it was Roger.

Roger truly, but Roger in pitiable plight. His armour was gone. His
doublet had been half stripped from off his back. He was bleeding from
more than one wound, and in his eyes was