At this juncture, down from the hill, out from among the coppice leaped the contingent that had failed to capture the height. It arrived at the most critical moment, just as the horsemen were struggling to disengage themselves and fly. They came upon the colliers in rear, they stopped accessions to their ranks from behind. Now their blades served them well, and the rout that had begun was arrested. The arrival of this body of men startled the peasants. They did not understand whence they had sprung; and they retreated. "Turn! Back to Domme!" yelled the Captain. The men recovered their horses, remounted, and still fighting, began the retreat. As they came under Cazelles a shower of projectiles was launched upon them from above. The peasants gave over the pursuit. They were incapable of keeping pace with the horses. And now, as they fell back, down from the height came Jean del' Peyra with his men. "Where is my father?" he asked eagerly, and looked round. Old Ogier was nowhere to be seen. "Search among the fallen!" ordered Jean in great alarm. Every dead and dying man was examined. Then came back a charcoal-burner, hot, for he had been running, and the sweat streaming over his face had washed it into streaks, like those that stain the face of the chalk cliffs. "What--the Seigneur?" asked the man. "He is taken." "Taken!" "Aye, taken and carried away by the _rouffiens_." CHAPTER XV. A THREATENED HORROR. WHEN Gros Guillem returned to the Castle of Domme, his feet were so swollen that the boots had to be cut off, and his feet swathed in linen. By his orders, Ogier del' Peyra was thrown into a dungeon for the night. The old Seigneur had been surrounded, disarmed, and captured by some of the _routiers_ while recovering their horses, which Ogier was endeavouring to prevent by cutting their reins. As soon as he was taken he knew that his doom was sealed, and he bore the knowledge with his usual stolidity, amounting to indifference. A quiet, plodding, heavy man he had ever been, only notable for his rectitude in the midst of a tortuous generation; he had been roused to energy and almost savagery by circumstances, and, thus roused, had manifested a power and prevision which no one had expected to find in him. Now that all was done that he could do, he slid back into his ordinary quietude. He slept soundly in his prison, for he had greatly excited and tired himself during the day. "Man can die but once," he said; and the saying was characteristic of the man--it was commonplace. This was, perhaps, less the case when he added, "An honest conscience can look Death in the face without blushing." Consequently, when thrust into his dungeon, he took the blanket ungraciously afforded him, and wrapped it round him, ate his portion of bread, drank a draught of water, signed himself--said the peasant's prayer, common in Quercy and Périgord as in England--