only two grey figures strained to keep pace with us, and then an arrow rattled on Alan's mail, shot from not more than five paces' range.
"A weak bow enough," said Alan.
But if the Scottish bow was weak against mail, it could harm a horse, for the next thing that I knew was that my good steed was down on his nose among the stones, and I was lying half stunned before him, while those two wild Galloway kernes shouted and rushed at me.
Alan had shot on ahead as I fell, but in a moment he was round and back, saving me from the dirk of one man who was almost on me, with a quick lance-thrust. The other man, who was not so near, fled as he came, and we were alone. Alan dismounted and came to my help.
"Are you hurt?" he said, lifting me.
"Not much,—but the horse—how about him?" I asked.
"Not much either—for he has gone."
And indeed he had picked himself up and fled into the mist towards the foe.
"Mount behind me," said Alan, helping me up. Then I groaned and reeled against him. My ankle was sorely bruised by a rock on which it had been dashed in my fall, and at that time I thought it was broken, for I could not stand.
"Hold up, and I will help you mount," said Alan. And then the Galloway men swarmed out of the fog again, cautiously at first. Some waft of wind had thinned the hanging clouds for a moment, and Alan saw them sooner than before.
"Leave me—warn the camp," I said.
"The honour of a De Govet——"
And that was the last I heard of what Alan was about to say, for with the first step towards the saddle I fainted.
When I came to, with the cold air rushing on me, the
