“Gallop!” he yelled again. “France! France!” And like a flash the question darted through the boy’s brain, why should he use the battle-cry of France?
Momentary all this as, before reaching the little, dimly seen crowd that once more barred the way, the chargers attained their fullest speed; and then there were a few slight shocks as man after man went down in their half-hearted resistance, and the rest were scattered, the little line of horsemen passing through them, driving them here and there, and charging on in their headlong gallop forward beneath the overhanging trees which suddenly ceased to darken their way, for the gallant band had passed out into the full bright moonlight once again, and the sound of pursuit by the enemy’s mounted men had died away.
Chapter Fifteen.
The friend in need.
They must have gone a mile at full gallop before the King cried “Halt!”
As the beat of their horses’ hoofs ceased he sat with raised hand as if commanding silence, listening; but the heavy breathing of the four steeds was the only sound that broke the silence of the glorious night.
“Forward slowly now,” said the King quietly. “The danger is past for the moment, and we shall have good warning if they come on again, for it is not likely that they have thrown out a second detachment to take us if we escaped the first. Now, just one word—who is hurt? Denis, my brave lad, how is it with you?”
“You took too much care of me, my lord. I am only hot.”