We stopped and turned our horses on the narrow bridge. We both drew sword and waited. My new-found ally threw back his hat, and I saw across his forehead a deep red scar, which I had not before noticed. The three men rode up to the attack. They all stopped suddenly before they reached the bridge. "Give up your sword and come with us, monsieur," cried one of them to me. I said nothing. "Go to hell!" roared my companion. And with that he charged with the fury of a wild beast, riding between two of the horsemen, and thrusting his sword through the eye and into the brain of one before either could make the least show of defence. His horse coming to a quick stop, he drew his weapon out of the slain man's head and turned on the other. While there was some violent fencing between the two, and while the dead man's horse reared, and so rid itself of its bleeding burden, the third horseman urged his horse towards me. I turned the point of his rapier, whereupon he immediately backed, and then came for me again just as I charged on him. Each was too quick to meet the other's steel with steel. His sword passed under my right arm and my sword under his right arm, and we found ourselves linked together, arm to arm. I saw him reach with his left hand for his dagger, and I grew sick at the thought that I had no similar weapon with which to make matters even. He plucked the dagger from his belt, and raised it to plunge it into my back; but his wrist was caught in a clutch of iron. My man in the brown doublet, in backing his horse to make another charge on his still remaining opponent, had seen my antagonist's motion, and now, with a twist of his vigorous fingers, caused the dagger to fall from a limp arm. Then my comrade returned to meet his own enemy, and I was again on equal terms with mine. We broke away from each other. I was the quicker to right myself, and a moment later he fell sidewise from his horse, pierced through the right lung. I backed my horse to the middle of the bridge, and was joined by my stalwart friend, who had done for his second man with a dagger thrust in the side. "Whew!" he panted, holding his dripping weapons on either side of him, so as not to get any more blood on his clothes. Then a grin of satisfaction appeared on his perspiring face, and he said: "Three Guisards less to shout '_Vive la messe_.' It's a pity we haven't time to exchange horses with these dead whelps of hell. But the others are coming up, and we ought to rest awhile." We sheathed our weapons and spurred on our horses, again southward. Looking back, soon, we saw that the other pursuers, on coming up to their dead comrades, had chosen first to look after the belongings of the latter rather than to avenge their deaths. And while Barbemouche and his men, of whom there were now six, tarried over the dead bodies, we made such good speed that at last we were out of sight of them. My first use of my returned breath was to thank my stalwart ally.