of his mailed form and flaunting banner when he burst out before that
despairing army! And oh, the gentle art of the last half of his last
sentence--delivered in the careless and indolent tone of one who has
finished his real story, and only adds a colorless and inconsequential
detail because it has happened to occur to him in a lazy way.

It was a marvel to see those innocent peasants. Why, they went all to
pieces with enthusiasm, and roared out applauses fit to raise the roof
and wake the dead. When they had cooled down at last and there was
silence but for the heaving and panting, old Laxart said, admiringly:

"As it seems to me, you are an army in your single person."

"Yes, that is what he is," said Noel Rainguesson, convincingly. "He is a
terror; and not just in this vicinity. His mere name carries a shudder
with it to distant lands--just he mere name; and when he frowns, the
shadow of it falls as far as Rome, and the chickens go to roost an hour
before schedule time. Yes; and some say--"

"Noel Rainguesson, you are preparing yourself for trouble. I will say
just one word to you, and it will be to your advantage to--"

I saw that the usual thing had got a start. No man could prophesy when it
would end. So I delivered Joan's message and went off to bed.

Joan made her good-byes to those old fellows in the morning, with loving
embraces and many tears, and with a packed multitude for sympathizers,
and they rode proudly away on their precious horses to carry their great
news home. I had seen better riders, some will say that; for horsemanship
was a new art to them.