The Turks charged with courageous fury. Seven hundred pistols were discharged full in their faces, emptying hundreds of saddles. They recoiled but came again almost immediately. Once more they received a volley at close range and this time fell back in disorder, their ranks thrown into confusion by the great number of riderless horses that ran wildly amongst them. The Earl deemed the moment favorable for a counter-attack. “Charge!” he cried in ringing tones, and plunged into the Moslem horde, followed by his men. Thrusting and hacking for dear life, Meldritch’s troopers slowly fought their way through the Barukhs. As they emerged in little knots they began to rally round the standards of their several leaders. The three captains were thus engaged in collecting the remnants of their men, when they perceived that the Earl was completely cut off. His plume, now no ruddier than his armor, marked the spot where alone, like a lion at bay, he held back a circle of the enemy. The red rays of the evening sun flashed from his long blade which, like a streak of fire, swept in wide strokes, now on this side and anon on that. “To the Chief!” shouted John. “Culnitz! Vahan! Follow me! To the Chief, my men!” Smith’s voice rose above the clangor of weapons as he spurred into the dense mass of Moslems, closely followed by his fellow-captains. With slashing blows they opened a lane through which some fifty of their men rode after them. In a few minutes they gained beside the wearied Earl and surrounded him with a band of devoted followers. The situation of this handful of heroes, beset by more than a thousand furious enemies, was precarious in the extreme. To cut their way out was impossible, and they prepared to sell their lives dearly and die as becomes gallant soldiers. But Fortune favors the brave. At this critical juncture, Count Ulrich, having routed the force to which he had been opposed, was able to bring his regiment to the relief of Meldritch. They bore down upon the Barukhs who, taken in the rear and by surprise, broke and fled over the field. The Turkish trumpets now sounded the “recall” and the shattered regiments of the Sultan retired to where Hassan’s banner proclaimed the presence of the dispirited commander. The Duc de Mercœur’s exhausted men lay down in their cloaks upon the ground which they had soaked with the blood of ten thousand Turks. IX. GUERILLA TACTICS