s."

The lantern had been set on the ground by the door and revealed only the
lower limbs of the four. Their heads were murky in shadow. Their speech
was foreign to the wounded man, but he saw their purpose. He was clearly
foredone with pain, but his vacant eyes kindled to slow anger, and
he shook back his hair so that the bleeding broke out again on his
forehead. He was as silent as an old tusker at bay.

The ex-priest gave the word and the four closed in on him. He defeated
their plan by hurling himself on the leader's shield, so that his weight
bore him backwards and he could not use his weapon. The spears on the
flanks failed for the same reason, and the two men posted there had
well-nigh been the death of each other. The fourth, the one from the
south, whose business it had been to support the priest, tripped and
fell sprawling beside the lantern.

The Englishman had one arm round the priest's neck and was squeezing the
breath out of him. But the blood of the four was kindling, and they had
vengeance instead of sport to seek. Mouthing curses, the three of them
went to the rescue of the leader, and a weaponless and sore-wounded man
cannot strive with such odds. They overpowered him, bending his arms
viciously back and kicking his broken head. Their oaths filled the hut
with an ugly clamour, but no sound came from their victim.

Suddenly a gust of air set the lantern flickering, and a new-comer stood
in the doorway. He picked up the light and looked down on the struggle.
He was a tall, very lean man, smooth faced, and black haired, helmetless
and shieldless, but wearing the plated hauberk of the soldier. There
was no scabbard on his left side, but his right hand held a long bright
sword.

For a second he lifted the light high, while he took in the scene. His
eyes were dark and dancing, like the ripples on a peat stream. "So-ho!"
he said softly. "Murder! And by our own vermin!"

He appeared to brood for a second, and then he acted. For he set the
light very carefully in the crook of a joist so that it illumined the
whole hut. Then he reached out a hand, plucked the ex-priest from his
quarry, and, swinging him in both arms, tossed him through the door into
the darkness. It would seem that he fell hard, for there was a groan and
then silence.

"One less," he said softly.

The three had turned to face him, warned by Gil's exclamation, and found
themselves looking at the ominous bar of light which was his sword.