Colonel Quinnox turned in his saddle and searched out the owner of that stirring voice.
"Come!" he called, drawing rein as soon as he caught sight of him.
Even as King rushed out into the roadway a horseman galloped up from the direction of the Castle. He pulled his horse to his haunches almost as he was riding over the dodging American.
"Here!" shouted the newcomer, scowling down upon the young man. "Swing up here! Quick, you fool!"
It was Vos Engo, his face black with fury. Quinnox had seized the hand of Mr. Hobbs on seeing help for King and was pulling him up before him. There was nothing for Truxton to do but to accept the timely help of his rival. An instant later he was up behind him and they were off after the last of the dragoons.
"If you don't mind, Count, I'll try my luck," grated the American. Holding on with one arm, he turned and fired repeatedly in the direction of the howling crowd of rascals.
"Ride to the barracks gates, Vos Engo!" commanded Colonel Quinnox. "Be prepared to admit none but the Royal Reserves, who are under standing orders to report there in time of need."
"God grant that they may be able to come," responded the Count. Over his shoulder he hissed to his companion. "It was not idle heroics, my friend, nor philanthropy on my part. I was commanded to come and fetch you. She would never have spoken to me again if I had refused."
"She? Ah, yes; I see. Good! She did not forget me!" cried Truxton, his heart bounding.
"My own happiness depends on my luck in getting you to safety," rasped the Count. "My life's happiness. Understand, damn you, it is not for you that I risk my life."