"God forbid!" cried Liutrad. "Let me be the one to stay them."
"And gorge their jaws! No, lad; you own the greater strength; I the greater fleetness. Each to his part!"
"Let Pepin come beside me," said Hildegarde. "He can hold to my hand."
"I 'll drag little, dear mother," replied the boy. "I 'm still strong."
"And I, mother," echoed Karl, with boyish pride.
"You 're brave lads, both," answered Gerold. "Slacken more, Liutrad. Now, Pepin, cross over to your mother--so; well done! We 're ready, Olvir."
"None too soon!" rejoined Olvir, and he fell back until Liutrad caught the fainting maiden from his grasp.
Borne up between the two young warriors, Rothada had now only to lean her weight upon their strong arms, and glide onwards, swept along by their powerful strokes. The pace was still swift enough to hold the hundred strokes gained over the horde at the first. Olvir was quick to heed the fact, and his face shone as he circled about the others for a farewell view.
"All's well!" he called cheerily. "Hold on only a little longer, and you may ease the pace."
Still smiling, he plucked an arrow from his quiver, and swept around on his daring mission. In another moment he was skimming at arrowy speed straight into the face of the pack, his gold-red hair streaming, his face bright and eager with the joy of battle.