All attempts at combination were getting useless now for the troops, and it was every man for himself; but the mob did not seem vindictive only when some dragoon struck mercilessly at those who hemmed him in, when the result rapidly followed that he was dragged from his horse and trampled underfoot.
Sir Robert was now shut out from his son’s gaze by several men forcing themselves to the carriage door, and Frank was rising in his stirrups to try and catch another glimpse of him, when in the wild swaying about of the crowd his horse was forced nearer to Captain Murray, an eddy sending the captain fortunately back to him, so that their horses made an effort, and came side by side once more, snorting and trembling with fear.
“The men are helpless, Frank lad,” said the captain, with his lips to the lad’s ear. “They can do nothing more. They are literally wedged in.”
“My father?” panted Frank.
“It will be a rescue, my lad.”
An exultant roar rose now from the dense mass of people which filled the wide street, and, separated from each other, as well as from their officers, the dragoons ceased to use their swords, while the men round them who held them fast wedged waved their sticks and hats, cheering madly.
“Told you so, sir,” shouted some one close behind them; and Frank turned, to see a dragoon, capless and bleeding from a cut on his forehead, sitting calmly enough on his horse.
“Can’t do any more, sir,” said the man, in answer to a frown from Captain Murray. “They’ve got my sword. It’s the same with all of us. We couldn’t move.”
The cheering went on, and in the midst of it the carriages began to move, dragged by the crowd, for there was not a soldier within a dozen yards. The clumsy vehicles were being dragged by hand, and the horses led away toward a side street, while the cheering grew more lusty than ever, and then changed into a yell of execration.
“What does that mean?” said Captain Murray excitedly.