mpany stood peering into the dense fog-wreath, amidst a

silence so profound that the dripping of the water from the rocks

and the breathing of the horses grew loud upon the ear. suddenly

from out the sea of mist came the shrill sound of a neigh,

followed by a long blast upon a bugle.

"it is a spanish call, my fair lord," said black simon. "it is

used by their prickers and huntsmen when the beast hath not fled,

but is still in its lair."

"by my faith!" said sir nigel, smiling, "if they are in a humor

for venerie we may promise them some sport ere they sound the

mort over us. but there is a hill in the centre of the gorge on

which we might take our stand."

"i marked it yester-night," said felton, "and no better spot

could be found for our purpose, for it is very steep at the back.

it is but a bow-shot to the left, and, indeed, i can see the

shadow of it."

the whole company, leading their horses, passed across to the

small hill which loomed in front of them out of the mist. it was

indeed admirably designed for defence, for it sloped down in

front, all jagged and boulder-strewn, while it fell away in a

sheer cliff of a hundred feet or more. on the summit was a small

uneven plateau, with a stretch across of a hundred paces, and a

depth of half as much again.

"unloose the horses!" said sir nigel. "we have no space for

them, and if we hold our own we shall have horses and to spare

when this day's work is done. nay, keep yours, my fair sirs, for

we may have work for them. aylward, johnston, let your men form

a harrow on either side of the ridge. sir oliver and you, my

lord angus, i give you the right wing, and the left to you, sir

simon, and to you, sir richard causten. i and sir william felton

will hold the centre with our men-at-arms. now order the ranks,

and fling wide the banners, for our souls are god's and our

bodies the king's, and our swords for saint george and for

england!"

sir nigel had scarcely spoken when the mist seemed to thin in the

valley, and to shred away into long ragged clouds which trailed

from the edges of the cliffs. the gorge in which they had camped

was a mere wedge-shaped cleft among the hills, three-quarters of

a mile deep, with the small rugged rising upon which they stood

at the further end, and the brown crags walling it in on three

sides. as the mist parted, and the sun broke through, it gleamed

and shimmered with dazzling brightness upon the armor and

headpieces of a vast body of horsemen who stretched across the

barranca from one cliff to the other, and extended backwards

until their rear guard were far out upon the plain beyond. line

after line, and rank after rank, they choked the neck of the

valley with a long vista of tossing pennons, twinkling lances,

waving plumes and streaming banderoles, while the curvets and

gambades of the chargers lent a constant motion and shimmer to

the glittering, many-colored mass. a yell of exultation, and a

forest of waving steel through the length and breadth of their

column, announced that they could at last see their entrapped

enemies, while the swelling notes of a hundred bugles and drums,

mixed with the clash of moorish cymbals, broke forth into a proud

peal of martial triumph. strange it was to these gallant and

sparkling cavaliers of spain to look upon this handful of men

upon the hill, the thin lines of bowmen, the knots of knights and

men-at-arms with armor rusted and discolored from long service,

and to learn that these were indeed the soldiers whose fame and

prowess had been the camp-fire talk of every army in christendom.

very still and silent they stood, leaning upon their bows, while

their leaders took counsel together in front of them. no clang

of bugle rose from their stern ranks, but in the centre waved the

leopards of england, on the right the ensign of their company

with the roses of loring, and on the left, over three score of

welsh bowmen, there floated the red banner of merlin with the

boars'-heads of the buttesthorns. gravely and sedately they

stood beneath the morning sun waiting for the onslaught of their

foemen.

"by saint paul!" said sir nigel, gazing with puckered eye down

the valley, "there appear to be some very worthy people among

them. what is this golden banner which waves upon the left?"

"it is the ensign of the knights of calatrava," answered felton.

"and the other upon the right?"

"it marks the knights of santiago, and i see by his flag that

their grand-master rides at their head. there too is the banner

of castile amid yonder sparkling squadron which heads the main

battle. there are six thousand men-at-arms with ten squadrons of

slingers as far as i may judge their numbers."

"there are frenchmen among them, my fair lord," remarked black

simon. "i can see the pennons of de couvette, de brieux, saint

po