The artillery duel greatly amused the boys, and Dicky longed to dismount and catch one of the iron balls as they came bounding along, until he saw one strike a stout Swiss pikeman, and knock him down, where he lay a dreadful sight. "Certes! I’m glad I thought better of it," said Dicky. "Who’d have thought there was such might in those bumping iron bowls." "’Tis a game where you’d best not be a ninepin," said Ralph; "but when are we to move? Oh! I am roasted alive! I would I could look over the brow of the hill and see what our artillery is doing. Ah! there goes another. Mercy on us! but it’s knocked over four at once--and--ah! ’tis a fearful sight. How they writhe! Poor wretches! Look! there’s Tom o’ Kingston down, and Oglander, and--ah! why don’t we charge; they’ve got our distance. Ah! they’ve stopped, thank the saints!" and Ralph became calmer as the noise ceased. "Look, Ralph, there’s a smash! Cannon, and master gunner, and all, gone to bits. What a shot!" But this was the last shot. The smoke blew away, causing Dicky to sniff and sputter at the smell of the saltpetre. "Faugh, what a foul mixture. Phew! Ah, it’s got down my throat. Hullo, what are we up to now? Oh, I see, we’re to become footmen. Well, I’d rather be a-horseback. But there, there; it’s all one in this roasting heat. Body o’ me, I’m swimming in my harness." But only the Captain of the Wight, and Ralph, with the rest of the esquires, and the Marshal de Rieux, dismounted. Dicky Cheke and Maurice Woodville were ordered to take their lords’ horse, with the other animals, to the rear, and bring them back when the fight was over. This was grievous news to the two boys. But there was no help for it, and they retired with a very crestfallen air. The dismounted knights and esquires had barely time to get inside the square of pike men when the fluttering pennons of the enemies’ men-at-arms could be seen over the brow of the hill. "Here they come," said Tom o’ Kingston, who had had his horse killed under him, but was not otherwise hurt. "Now, my knaves, think what they’ll say at home, and let us play the man." [Illustration: HOW THE MEN OF THE WIGHT WITHSTOOD THE FRENCH.] And now the serried ranks of the French men-at-arms, their helms well down, the shields before their left arms, and with lances in rest, came cantering over the rise in front. "Now, archers, let fly your shafts," cried the Captain of the Wight, and a twanging sound instantly followed, for every archer knew what was coming, and had already put his arrow on the string. The rushing sound which fluttered in the air was succeeded by a splintering crack or dull thud, or heavier groan, as the shafts flew home. And many a gallant man-at-arms fell to the ground in the death sob. But still fresh ranks came topping the hill, and fierce shouts arose. "A bas les Anglais! Tuez les!" from the steel-clad figures who cantered onward in grim resolve.