Down the steep path from the hill above swept the pursuing
horsemen. Down the steep path to the bridge-head and there drew
rein; for in the middle of the narrow way sat the motionless,
steel-clad figure upon the great war-horse, with wide, red,
panting nostrils, and body streaked with sweat and flecked with
patches of foam.

One side of the roadway of the bridge was guarded by a low stone
wall; the other side was naked and open and bare to the deep,
slow-moving water beneath. It was a dangerous place to attack a
desperate man clad in armor of proof.

"Forward!" cried Baron Henry, but not a soul stirred in answer,
and still the iron-clad figure sat motionless and erect upon the
panting horse.

"How," cried the Baron Henry, "are ye afraid of one man? Then
follow me!" and he spurred forward to the bridge-head. But still
no one moved in answer, and the Lord of Trutz-Drachen reined
back his horse again. He wheeled his horse and glared round upon
the stolid faces of his followers, until his eyes seemed fairly
to blaze with passion beneath the bars of his vizor.

Baron Conrad gave a roar of laughter. "How now," he cried; "are
ye all afraid of one man? Is there none among ye that dares come
forward and meet me? I know thee, Baron Henry thou art not
afraid to cut off the hand of a little child. Hast thou not now
the courage to face the father?"