out upon them and see
if we may not gain some honorable advancement from them."

"But why then rather than now?"

"Because we shall have nightfall to cover us when we draw off, so that
we may make our way back through the mountains. I would station a score
of archers here in the pass, with all our pennons jutting forth from the
rocks, and as many nakirs and drums and bugles as we have with us, so
that those who follow us in the fading light may think that the whole
army of the prince is upon them, and fear to go further. What think you
of my plan, Sir Simon?"

"By my troth! I think very well of it," cried the prudent old commander.
"If four hundred men must needs run a tilt against sixty thousand, I
cannot see how they can do it better or more safely."

"And so say I," cried Felton, heartily. "But I wish the day were over,
for it will be an ill thing for us if they chance to light upon us."

The words were scarce out of his mouth when there came a clatter of
loose stones, the sharp clink of trotting hoofs, and a dark-faced
cavalier, mounted upon a white horse, burst through the bushes and rode
swiftly down the valley from the end which was farthest from the Spanish
camp. Lightly armed, with his vizor open and a hawk perched upon his
left wrist, he looked about him with the careless air of a man who is
bent wholly upon pleasure, and unconscious of the possibility of danger.
Suddenly, however, his eyes lit upon the fierce faces which glared out
at him from the brushwood. With a cry of terror, he thrust his spurs
into his horse's sides and dashed for the narrow opening of the gorge.
For a moment it seemed as though he would have reached it, for he had
trampled over or dashed aside the archers who threw themselves in his
way; but Hordle John seized him by the foot in his grasp of iron and
dragged him from the saddle, while two others caught the frightened
horse.

"Ho, ho!" roared the great archer. "How many cows wilt buy my mother, if
I set thee free?"

"Hush that bull's bellowing!" cried Sir Nigel impatiently. "Bring the
man here. By St. Paul! it is not the first time that we have met; for,
if I mistake not, it is Don Diego Alvarez, who was once at the prince's
court."

"It is indeed I," said the Spanish knight, speaking in the French
tongue, "and I pray you to pass your sword through my heart, for how can
I live--I, a caballero of Castile--after being dragged from my horse by
the base hands of a common archer?"