“He’s to the northwest,” was the reply. “He has sacked and burned the castles and strongholds that lie over towards the sea. He’s going to march to the south in a few days—to Bordeaux to pass the winter.” “Oh!” I exclaimed. I was about to prod him more when a streak shot between us. It was an arrow from someone hiding in the woods. CHAPTER XXIV BESIEGED We had no time for thought. “Back!” cried the archer. And we dropped behind the open door as quickly as we could. Another arrow sped past and fastened itself in the far wall. Then a second came and a third. “That makes four all together,” said the first archer. “There are four men outside against the four of us here. If we can hold out for an hour, help will be on the way.” “We must barricade the door,” said the second. “As it is, they have every advantage.” He pointed to the table. We lifted it up and stood it on its end. Then, with care lest we expose ourselves to another shot, we moved it slowly until it stood before the entrance. It was hardly wide enough for there was a space of half a foot on either side. The first archer who seemed to be the leader touched the second on the arm. “Do you hold the door, Raoul,” he said, “while I look closer at our defenses.” With that he stepped back and began to examine the room. He sent a sharp glance at the windows and tossed his head when he saw the smallness of them. When he came to the door that led into the kitchen, a worried expression crossed his brow. “Can you fight?” he demanded turning to me. “I can try,” said I. “Do you and your friend take your stand here,” he commanded. “If an attack comes, be on your guard and repel it.” He left us and went back to the door. Charles picked up the chair with the broken legs while I, with my dagger in my hand, stood ready. A sharp click echoed through the room. It was an arrow crashing against the table. Then three more followed in quick succession. By that I knew that our enemies were still in the front of us and for the moment we had nothing to fear from our end of the inn. Then came a lull. The leader of the archers passed his hat across the opening between the table and the jamb of the door. Before he had time to breathe an arrow sung in the air. It passed into the room and caught with a snap in the plaster not far from my legs. “They know how to shoot,” exclaimed the archer. He walked back where the light was dim and raised his bow. He peered out for a moment, taking careful aim. The twang hummed in my ears and the arrow sped through the opening at the door. A cry as of a man hurt came back to us, loud and penetrating. “That’s one of them!” I shouted in glee. The archer gave me a look. “Don’t be deceived, lad,” he said with a frown. “I missed. My arrow is sticking there in a tree. It was only a trick of theirs.”