I saw De Baugis step forward, his hand outstretched; then all was confusion and struggle. With the hoarse snarl of a beast, Cassion leaped forward, struck La Forest with his shoulder, and drove sword point into De Artigny. De Tonty gripped him, but was hurled aside by insane strength, reeling back so that the weight of his body struck me to my knees. The next instant, his sword-point dripping blood, the runner 403 was beyond reach, speeding for the open gate. What followed I know from word of others, and no view I had of it.
De Artigny had fallen, huddled in a heap on the grass, and I dragged myself across to him on my knees. I heard oaths, a shuffling of feet, a rush of bodies, a voice I did not recognize shouting some order––then the sharp crack of a rifle, and silence. I cared not what had occurred; I had De Artigny’s head in my arms, and his eyes opened and smiled up at me full of courage.
“You are badly hurt?”
“No, I think not; the thrust was too high. Lift me, and I breathe better. The man must have been mad.”
“Surely yes, Monsieur; think you he had hope of escape?”
“’Tis likely he thought only of revenge. Ah, you are here also, De Tonty.”
“Yes, lad; there is small use for me yonder. You are not seriously struck?”
“I bleed freely, but the thrust was in the shoulder. I could stand, I think, with your aid.”
On his feet he leaned heavily on us both, yet would not be led away, until La Forest joined us. He held in his hand some papers, yet neither of us questioned him.