learn that he is where you will never be - in God's keeping."

"Presumptuous hound," stormed the lad, "giveway!"

Their swords met, and for a moment they ground one against the
other; then Crispin's blade darted out, swift as a lightning
flash, and took his opponent in the throat.

"You would have it so, rash fool," he deprecated.

The boy hurtled back into the arms of those behind, and as he
fell he dropped his rapier, which rolled almost to Crispin's
feet. The knight stooped, and when again he stood erect,
confronting the rebels in that narrow passage, he held a sword
in either hand.

There was a momentary pause in the onslaught, then to his
dismay Crispin saw the barrel of a musket pointed at him over
the shoulder of one of his foremost assailants. He set his
teeth for what was to come, and braced himself with the hope
that the King might already have made good his escape.

The end was at hand, he thought, and a fitting end, since his
last hope of redress was gone-destroyed by that fatal day's
defeat.

But of a sudden a cry rang out in a voice wherein rage and
anguish were blended fearfully, and simultaneously the musket
barrel was dashed aside.