"Hold!" he cried, with a terrible voice, as the horsemen came up. The long hunting-knife glittered in his right hand, while, with the left, he seized the reins of the middle horse. The animal wheeled and snorted; and a blow from a sword struck the old warrior on the left arm; but, with a convulsive grasp, he held firm the bridle, and groped in the dark with the knife, for fear of injuring the female form that hung, apparently in a swoon, on the horseman's left arm. "Forward, in the devil's name! cut him down!" again cried the squeaking voice from behind. The old man felt a wound in the shoulder, and, at the same moment, received a violent blow from the horse's fore leg. The bridle dropped from his hands; he fell to the ground; and the horse sprang over him. With desperate strength, he half raised himself, and flung his knife, with whizzing rapidity, after the nearest horseman. He heard the piercing shriek of a man, and, at a little distance, the indistinct voice of his dear Aasé, crying, "Help, grandfather! help!" till it was lost in the storm, and in the clatter of the horses' hoofs. Faint with loss of blood, the old man fell back unconscious. Twenty paces from him, on the dark road, arose the groans of a dying man; and a frightened horse, with an empty saddle, bounded away across the fields. For some time, Henner Friser lay insensible on the road. When he again became conscious, he heard several voices around him. He opened his eyes, and found himself encircled by his hardy friends, the young porpoise-hunters. They stood with lights and cudgels in their hands, together with his neighbour the armourer, and some burghers from the town, who came to his assistance, with perplexed and sympathising exclamations. Seated on a tall, iron gray stallion, in the middle of the road, was a young knight, in a scarlet mantle, fringed with sable, and with a white feather in his hat. By the knight's side, holding, in one hand a torch, and, with the other, a norback[6] by the bridle, stood a little, swarthy squire. The storm was now lulled, and the torch burned clear in the still air, illuminating the anxious, noisy group. "Look here, one of you. What is the matter? Are there rievers in the district? Has Niels Breakpeace come over?"