High above the roar and din of voices and weapons could be heard the crashing sound of many hoofs spurning the pebbles of the stony plain.
As if by magic, hostilities closed, and both parties turned to view this new arrival of enemies or friends of one side.
Around the little grove came sweeping a mixed band of red and white men, outnumbering both sides put together, and with loud yells charged down towards the wagons.
A cheer arose from the guards.
“They come, they come.”
The leader of the attacking party gave a shrill call, and his horse came crashing through the ranks, knocking steeds and horses left and right.
Like a flash he was mounted by his brave riders, and the latter shouted:
“Together, wheel, follow.”
And before the guards could recover from their surprise, the little band was rattling away behind the executive captain, leaving one man dead, and another one dying on the field, and carrying away more than one wound.
Onward at a swinging gallop, gathering into a compact body as they rode, came the mixed band.