I could not have withstood the
unexpected onrush, and certainly would have met with hard blows or
worse, had not Max come to my rescue. I hurriedly stepped back, and the
German, in following me, rode near a large stone by the roadside. He
had, doubtless, passed the stone many times in his travels up and down
the road, but the thought probably had never occurred to him that it
would be the cause of his death. The most potential facts in our lives
are usually too insignificant to attract attention.
When the German charged me, Max sprang upon the stone and dealt the
swart ruffian a blow such as no man may survive. Max's great battle-axe
crushed the Black Eider's helmet as if it were an egg-shell, and the
captain of our foes fell backward, hanging by his stirrups. One of our
squires shot one of the robbers, and the remaining three took flight.
Max caught the captain's horse, and coolly extricated the dead man's
feet from the stirrups. Then he thrust the body to the roadside with the
indifference of a man whose life has been spent in slaughter. Among his
many inheritances, Max probably had taken this indifference, together
with his instinctive love of battle. He was not quarrelsome, but he
took to a fight as naturally as a duck takes to water.
When the robbers had left, Yolanda came running from her hiding-place.
She was not frightened; she was aglow with excitement. She, too, must
have inherited the love of battle. Twonette was trembling with fear.
Pages:
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91