"Thank you, Lassie," I called to express my gratitude. Without his strong arm where would we be now?
"You are a fool, Dale," he replied gruffly. He did not look at Solonika.
We were too tired to talk more and, beside, we needed our strength for the future. I turned my attention to the room below. Over the railing I saw the Patriarch, surrounded by his priests, in close consultation with the colonel in command. Between them they had Marchaud, the innkeeper. Attired in his nightcap and scanty robe de nuit, he was the picture of abject terror. The last time I had seen him he was on the balcony behind. His wife and servants were still there. How he had reached the ground floor without passing us I did not know.
"Oh, my beautiful hotel," he shrieked. "Who will pay me for the damage? Look at the blood upon the walls. Oh, I am ruined."
The colonel slapped him over the mouth to still his noise and motioned two soldiers to drag him from the room. The Patriarch and the commanding officer followed Marchaud out. The Patriarch had admitted himself beaten and the rest of the fight would be conducted upon military lines. I watched the door until the colonel reappeared. He evidently had formed a plan of action. A captain took charge of the men at the foot of the stairs, while the priests looked on in silence. A bugler with his horn in his hand, stepped to the centre of the floor. No doubt he would give the signal for the renewal of the battle. The captain's men prepared to leap up at us again. What did they intend to do? Surely they did not hope to wear us out until, overpowered by numbers, we were at last forced to surrender? It might be costly, but it could not fail.
"Here they come," I cried as the young bugler raised his shining instrument to his lips.
Weary, but undaunted, we sprang to our positions to await the expected attack. Outside, on the road toward Nischon, there was the sound of galloping horses. Reinforcements were coming to the enemy, as if there were not sufficient men to wear twice our number down.
At the silvery call of the bugle, sounding the advance, the green uniforms surged up the stairs with a happy shout. They came with so much confidence of success that we feared we could not stop their mad rush. But, when our swords met, we discovered that the charge strangely enough lacked spirit. As steel clashed against steel, I heard the clear note of the bugle again. Was he sounding another advance? Did the attacking force need further encouragement?
We were not long in ignorance of the meaning of the second signal. Scarcely was the note begun when the serving women on the landing behind us began shrieking in terror. Their high voices mingled with the hoarse cry of men coming to the attack. Those below pressed us hard, with renewed vigour. The colonel, guided by the landlord, had sent a second attacking squad to the balcony by means of a back way. They were even now running toward us with shouts of victory. Had we been twice our number our case had been hopeless. We were surrounded and undone. We were lost.
Slipping my sword hilt through my hand, I grasped Solonika about the waist and ran swiftly up the few remaining steps in the face of the oncoming enemy. I reached the door and thrust her safely inside before the flanking party arrived, leaving Nick to fight it out alone on the steps. By this move I placed myself on a level with my enemies and forced them to come through a narrow doorway, one at a time to get me. I awaited the final attack—which never came.