Young students of the neighboring academy--mere boys of from thirteen to
eighteen years of age, but brave, spirited, vigorous lads, well mounted,
well armed, and led on by the redoubtable college hero, Cloudesley
Mornington. They rushed forward, they surrounded, they fell upon the
marauders with an absolute shower of blows.

"Give it to them, men! This for Fanny! This for Edith! And this! and
this! and this for both of them!" shouted Cloudesley, as he vigorously
laid about him. "Strike for Hay Hill and vengeance! Let them have it, my
men! And you, little fellows! Small young gentlemen, with the souls of
heroes, and the bodies of elves, who can't strike a very hard blow, aim
where your blows will tell! Aim at their faces. This for Fanny! This for
Edith!" shouted Cloudesley, raining his strokes right and left, but
never at random.

He fought his way through to the miscreant Thorg.

Thorg was still on foot, armed with a sword, and laying about him
savagely among the crowd of foes that had surrounded him.

Cloudesley was still on horseback--he had caught up an ax that lay
carelessly upon the lawn, and now he rushed upon Thorg from behind.

He had no scruple in taking this advantage of the enemy--no scruple
with an unscrupulous monster--an outlawed wretch--a wild beast to be
destroyed, when and where and how it was possible!

And so Cloudesley came on behind, and elevating this formidable weapon