"All is well, sir. They retreated just before nightfall, leaving seven hundred of their infantry wounded or dead behind them."
A shout of satisfaction rose from the horsemen.
"Take torches across the bridge," Francois ordered. "It is the Admiral, come to our rescue."
A minute later, the head of the column crossed the temporary bridge. Francois had run down and received them in the gateway.
"What is this?" the Admiral asked. "Have they burnt your drawbridge and gate?"
"Yes, sir."
"How was it, then, they did not succeed in capturing the place? Ah, I see, you formed a barricade here."
Two or three of the carcasses had been dragged aside, to permit the men carrying the wounded to enter.
"Why, what is it, Francois--skins of freshly slain oxen?"
"Yes, sir, and the barricade is formed of their bodies. We had neither time nor materials at hand, and my cousin suggested bringing the oxen up, and slaughtering them here. In that way we soon made a barricade. But we should have had hard work in holding it, against such numbers, had he not also suggested our skinning them, and letting the hides hang as you see, with the raw sides outwards. Then we smeared them thickly with blood and, though the Catholics strove their hardest, not one of them managed to get a footing on the top."