rt of his nose. The fellow's arms were tight about him,
as they rolled sideways against the rock, Revel straining to bring his
pick into play, clutching tight to the lantern, while the priest flailed
hands like knobby boulders against the Mink's nape and head. A blow of
his knee, and Revel doubled up, gasping; struck out blindly with the
lantern, caught the fellow in the belly, and made him curl up in his
turn, choking for breath. Jerran and the others were blocked by Revel,
and growled encouragement.

Revel straightened, nauseated and weak. The priest came at him. Revel
raised his pickax and swung it--pain stabbed into his legs and belly--he
bent involuntarily in the middle of his swing--and what should have been
a neat spitting of the holy man's skull became a messy job of
disemboweling. The fellow died gurgling, picking futilely at his spilt
entrails. Revel crawled over him and went on once more, his troops
behind him.

At the western entrance to Rosk's mine, he peered out for the first sign
of the highborn enemies. A thrill of panic touched him as he saw they
were not where they had been; then, poking his head into the dawn, he
saw them advancing in a slow line toward the rise where his four men
were raising shouts and taunts.

Orbs, he thought exultantly, here's a piece of luck! We'll take them in
the back!

He slipped down the shelf, gesturing his men on. Running silently, he
came within a yard of a squire in green and gold; then halted and
cleared his throat loudly. The squire, startled, looked back.

"Ewyo!" he shrieked, whirling. "It's the Mink!"

"Come from Hell to slay you," said Revel between his teeth, and dealt a
blow with his pick that clove the gentryman from brow to breastbone. The
line of men had swiveled, and now shots rang out; at such close range
even their guns could not miss. Half a dozen rebels fell, screaming.

And now the weary Revel was a brazen-throated fiend, brandishing his
pick, roaring, scalping one and braining the next, destroying with fresh
vigor dredged up from the pits of his free soul. For now he had a
strange certainty that the gods were done, and if he died in this moment
he died emancipated.

Joy brought him strength such as he had never had. These squires,
running off, loading their guns feverishly, firing, clubbing their
weapons to stand and fight, what chance had they against him? He looked
for Ewyo, but could not find him. _Let him not be dead_, he prayed. And
then