e
now one fair fight with Ewyo the Squire of Dolfya._

The first man he met was Rack, engaged in binding up a torn calf with
strips of his shirt.

"How goes it?"

Rack turned the walleye toward him, as though he could see out of it.
"We have eight or ten left. All their horses are dead or run away. We
stayed them in hand-to-hand combat, but when they drew back and began to
use their guns long-range, we lost heavily. Now we're dug in along that
rise, and they seem to be waiting for more squires, or horses, or
something. I think they have twenty or thirty left."

"Then we have thirty-five or so, and outnumbered them."

Rack let his good eye rest on his brother. "Your voice is the croak of a
dying frog, Revel. You must have lost a quart of blood. Your men are
like sticks and sacks and limp rag bundles. You call this force
thirty-five _men_?"

"We are still men, Rack." His voice, croak though it was, rang strong
and fierce. "I can plant this pick in any gnat's eye I desire. Now do
you lead us to the battle front."

"Yes, Mink." Rack turned and hobbled forward. "One of the slugs has
sliced half the tendons of this leg, I swear."

"That wound is in the fleshy part, and won't trouble you for a week. Is
that a man?"

"That's Dawvys."

* * * * *

Revel started back, appalled. The man lying behind the rise was red and
brown from short-cropped hair to waist, his back a mass of
blood--sparkling crimson in the light of dawn, where it had freshly
sprung leaks, and dirty mahogany color, where the scabs had dried and
cracked and flaked. It was a back that should have belonged to a dead
man; but Dawvys rolled over on it without a wince and grinned at his
leader.

"Hallo, Revel, bless your soul," said the former servant. "I'm glad to
see you alive."

"The same to you, Dawvys," said the Mink. "Did you have any trouble in
that pit?"

"I went to sleep when the hounds had passed, and never awoke till your
men found me tonight." He stretched and grunted with pain; then, "I
think I shall live."

Revel looked cautiously over the rise. Some fifty yards down the valley
the squires were grouped in a knot, their costumes gaudy in the early
light. A few of them were looking toward him, but most watched the far
end of the valley. They were looking, thought Revel, for reinforcements.
Time might be short.

He scanned the terrain. Where the squires stood, the valley was narrow,
scarcely more than si