In anticipation of a renewal of the attack by the Tartar horsemen, Meldritch had formed his infantry, under Veltus, just beyond the palisade of stakes. They were ordered to hold their ground as long as possible and then to fall back behind the defence. The Tartars, confident in their superior numbers, as well they might be, charged repeatedly. Each time they were gallantly repulsed, but at length Veltus had lost so many men that he was forced to fall back. The enemy, brandishing their spears and yelling exultantly, followed close upon the retiring foot-soldiers and came quite unawares upon the rows of sharpened stakes. In a moment a mass of struggling men and horses lay at the mercy of Meldritch’s troops who slew two thousand of them. This splendid success on the part of the pitiful handful of Christians now reduced to half their original number, dampened the ardor of the Tartars. There was a momentary cessation in the attack and the defence might have been maintained until darkness set in, perhaps, but the bodies of Turks which we have mentioned as surveying the field in readiness to render assistance if needed, now began to descend to the valley. The Earl realized that once these auxiliaries joined forces with the Tartars, all would be lost. He determined to seize the moment of hesitancy on the part of the latter to make an attempt to break through them and gain the town of Rothenthrum. Accordingly, he quickly formed his cavalry in the van and advanced to the attack. It was a forlorn hope but no better prospect offered. Five thousand men threw themselves upon thirty thousand with the desperation of despair. The Earl, upon his great white charger, rode in the lead, followed by his own regiment in which Captain Smith was now the senior officer. Straight at the Tartar cavalry they went and cut their way through the front ranks as though they had been but paper barricades. But rank after rank confronted them and with each fresh contact they left numbers of their own men behind. The slaughter was indescribable. Soon they were the centre of a maelstrom of frenzied human beings with scarce more chance for escape than has a canoe in the vortex of a whirlpool. They fought like heroes to the death and made fearful havoc among their enemies. The gallant Earl and a few hundred followers made their way as by a miracle through the surrounding mass and swimming the River Altus, escaped.