n
firing line.

Immediately he did what Barney had expected that he would--turned
the fire of his artillery toward the southwest, directly away from
the point from which the American and the crack squadron were
advancing.

So it came that the cavalrymen crept through the woods upon the rear
of the guns, unseen; the noise of their advance was drowned by the
detonation of the cannon.

The first that the artillerymen knew of the enemy in their rear was
a shout of warning from one of the powder-men at a caisson, who had
caught a glimpse of the grim line advancing through the trees at his
rear.

Instantly an effort was made to wheel several of the pieces about
and train them upon the advancing horsemen; but even had there been
time, a shout that rose from several of Peter's artillerymen as the
Royal Horse broke into full view would doubtless have prevented the
maneuver, for at sight of the tall, bearded, young man who galloped
in front of the now charging cavalrymen there rose a shout of "The
king! The king!"

With the force of an avalanche the Royal Horse rode through those
two batteries of field artillery; and in the thick of the fight that
followed rode the American, a smile upon his face, for in his ears
rang the wild shouts of his troopers: "For the king! For the king!"

In the moment that the enemy made their first determined stand a
bullet brought down the great bay upon which Barney rode. A dozen of
Peter's men rushed forward to seize the man stumbling to his feet.
As many more of the Royal Horse closed around him, and there, for
five minutes, was waged as fierce a battle for possession of a king
as was ever fought.

But already many of the artillerymen had deserted the guns that had
not yet been attacked, for the magic name of king had turned their
blood to water. Fifty or more raised a white flag and surrendered
without striking a blow, and when, at last, Barney and his little
bodyguard fought their way through those who surrounded them they
found the balance of the field already won.

Upon the slope below the city the loyal troops were advancing upon
the enemy. Old Prince Ludwig paced back and forth behind them,
apparently oblivious to the rain of bullets about him. Every moment
he turned his eyes toward the wooded ridge from which there now
belched an almost continuous fusillade of shells upon the advancing
royalists.

Quite suddenly the cannonading ceased and the old man halted in his
tracks, his