The besiegers at the furthermost points were seen to clamber over the
walls. They were battering at the gates at which Sir Tristram, Sir
Launcelot and a number of the men had taken their stand.

Things indeed looked dark for those within. Sir Percival, for one, had
been grievously wounded in the last affray.

But the gates made to withstand against attack held well.

Yet it was now a mere question of time. This, both those within and
without fully realized.

"Unless our two messengers find King Arthur," said Sir Tristram calmly
and unhurriedly, "it matters but little whether we fight our way out
now or later. Is it not so?"

"I have faith in the coming of the king," said Sir Launcelot. "For
the boy Allan, I know to be tireless in the performance of such duty.
And if I mistake not the other will try his utmost too, for he seeks
to be dubbed a knight by our king."

So now down at the gates, now on the walls, sending death and
destruction upon the attackers the two knights held their own,
fighting hopefully, unyieldingly, hour after hour.

There was a cry of joy now, of exultation from Gouvernail. For his
eagle eye espied in the distance a horse and rider, then other horses
and other riders.

The faint notes of the slughorn came to their ears. The men on the