The trooper who had fired dropped his musket, drew his sword, came running through the orchard shouting, caught his foot in the twisted root of a plum-tree, and fell sprawling; and his sword, flying up out of his hand, whizzed almost to Giles's feet. He picked it up, put it between his teeth, picked up his man, flung him on his back, and set off at a run for the bridge. Two bullets flew past him, and one lodged in his burden, as he knew by the sound and a sudden twist of the hands he held in his own. Three men appeared by the wall. Two fired again, and the third, sword in hand, leapt the low wall after Giles. Dick, watching, saw Giles start forward and stumble. "He's hit!" Dick thought, and his hands, clinging to the cranks of the drawbridge, trembled, and his legs shook under him. And now he saw a party of horsemen separate from the camp below, and come galloping over the fields. But Giles was still running forward. Oh, how short a way it had seemed to the orchard-wall a moment ago, and what miles and miles it now seemed to come back! "He's not down! They've not closed with him!" Dick told himself. "I needn't draw it up yet." Giles's feet were on the bridge-end as the line of horsemen came into range, drew up, and fired Dick saw the flash, then the blue line of smoke. He heard the report echo and re-echo, and the bullets come hopping on to the bridge, into the water, and one or two whistled softly past him and dropped ping-ping on the stones of the court. Dick shut his eyes. "Up with it!" a voice shouted in his ear, and something shot past him and fell at his side. Flinging all the strength of his little body into the effort, Dick felt the cranks yield. Up went the bridge, and the foremost Puritan, springing and missing his foothold, went down into the water with a curse and a crash. A horseman, whipping and spurring for the bridge, but failing to wrench his charger's head round, followed him with a splash that sent the moat-water as high as the roof of the gate-house, and a noise that deafened Dick as he stood tugging at the portcullis pulleys for dear life. Giles limped to his aid, and whilst bullets rained past them, and muskets cracked, and soldiers shouted, and officers yelled orders, the great iron grating came down with a clash, and the two besieged comrades lifted a cheer. "God save the King!" Giles shouted in mocking triumph, and then Dick leapt into his arms. "Giles, Giles, I love you! But oh, Giles, I'm very sick!" And the two heroes retired to the hall with their Puritan, to ransack their wounds, as Giles said, and to drink the King's health and the Captain of Dent's. CHAPTER VI DICK AND GILES DRAW LOTS