CHAPTER X. AS THE LION WOOS HIS BRIDE. So light to the croupe the fair lady he swung, So light to the saddle before her, he sprung.—SCOTT. One amazed and startled look assured the party that the guerrillas were upon them. Some of the young ladies fell upon their faces, screaming with terror. Others turned to fly, but were met and opposed by the bayonets of the guerrillas, who fenced them on all sides. Only Elfie stood her ground. She placed her back against the bole of a pine tree and called those frantic girls around her, saying: “Stand fast! Stand firm! it is the best way—it is the only way!” “To arms! gentlemen all! Let us die in defence of the ladies!” shouted valiant little Mr. Mim, drawing his slender sword from his cane and throwing himself before the group of young ladies who had now gathered, frightened and trembling, around Elfie as their queen. Not another man followed his example. “Surrender, you blasted Yankees, before we make crows’ meat of you!” shouted a gigantic guerrilla, who seemed to be the leader of the hand, leaping into the centre of the area, followed by many of his men. Elfie stooped and whispered to her chivalric little champion. “Mr. Mim, resistance is quite vain! You will only get yourself cut to pieces by these wretches! Throw down your sword!” “Miss Fielding, I will be cut into ten thousand flinders before they shall come at you and the other ladies!” cried the little hero. “These are Goldsborough’s guerrillas; and the giant who is leading them is the savage Mutchison, his second in command. I know him by his picture in the illustrated papers. Give me your dirk to defend myself, and then surrender, Mr. Mim.” “My dirk! Certainly, if you want it, Miss Fielding; but I will never surrender!” said the little knight, beginning to disengage the required weapon from its resting-place. Then he had to let it go in a hurry, and throw himself upon his guard; for the colossus whom Elfie had called Mutchison was leaping towards him, brandishing his sabre. Little Mim met and parried the stroke that was aimed at him. And then followed several rapid passes. But the combat was very unequal. Mim and Mutchison, as to their respective sizes, were like David and Goliath. And poor tiny Mim had no miraculous sling! When they had crossed swords several times, Mutchison sang out: “Yield, you little fool!” “Never!” shouted Mim, parrying the strokes as well as he could, and watching for a chance to run his gigantic antagonist through the body. “Surrender, you blamed idiot! I don’t want to kill such a midge as you!” cried the guerrilla, without ceasing to lay on. “Then you needn’t; but take care of yourself, for I want to kill _you_!—Ah, ha!” exclaimed Mim, as he found his opportunity and ran his rapier an inch or two into the guerrilla’s flesh.