They were not a moment too soon in this retreat, either, for the next
instant the pickets flew open, and a volley of stones flew after the
retreating Knights of the Rose. One smote Wilkes upon the head,
knocking him down headlong. Another struck Myles upon his left shoulder,
benumbing his arm from the finger-tips to the armpit, so that he thought
at first the limb was broken.

"Get ye behind the buttresses!" shouted those who looked down upon the
fight from the windows--"get ye behind the buttresses!" And in answer
the lads, scattering like a newly-flushed covey of partridges, fled
to and crouched in the sheltering angles of masonry to escape from the
flying stones.

And now followed a lull in the battle, the bachelors fearing to leave
the protection of the arched passage-way lest their retreat should be
cut off, and the Knights of the Rose not daring to quit the shelter of
the buttresses and angles of the wall lest they should be knocked down
by the stones.

The bachelor whom Myles had struck down with his cudgel was sitting up
rubbing the back of his head, and Wilkes had gathered his wits enough to
crawl to the shelter of the nearest buttress. Myles, peeping around the
corner behind which he stood, could see that the bachelors were gathered
into a little group consulting together. Suddenly it broke asunder, and
Blunt turned around.

"Ho, Falworth!" he cried. "Wilt thou hold truce whiles we parley with
ye?"

"Aye," answered Myles.