Two shots were the reply to this threat; but the assailants attacked their foes with such velocity that in a moment they were upon them; a third pistol-shot was heard, aimed by D’Artagnan, and one of his adversaries fell. As for Porthos, he assaulted the foe with such violence that, although his sword was thrust aside, the enemy was thrown off his horse and fell about ten steps from it. “Finish, Mouston, finish the work!” cried Porthos. And he darted on beside his friend, who had already begun a fresh pursuit. “Well?” said Porthos. “I’ve broken my man’s skull,” cried D’Artagnan. “And you——” “I’ve only thrown the fellow down, but hark!” Another shot of a carbine was heard. It was Mousqueton, who was obeying his master’s command. “On! on!” cried D’Artagnan; “all goes well! we have the first throw.” “Ha! ha!” answered Porthos, “behold, other players appear.” And in fact, two other cavaliers made their appearance, detached, as it seemed, from the principal group; they again disputed the road. This time the lieutenant did not wait for the opposite party to speak. “Stand aside!” he cried; “stand off the road!” “What do you want?” asked a voice. “The duke!” Porthos and D’Artagnan roared out both at once. A burst of laughter was the answer, but finished with a groan. D’Artagnan had, with his sword, cut in two the poor wretch who had laughed. At the same time Porthos and his adversary fired on each other and D’Artagnan turned to him. “Bravo! you’ve killed him, I think.” “No, wounded his horse only.” “What would you have, my dear fellow? One doesn’t hit the bull’s-eye every time; it is something to hit inside the ring. Ho! _parbleu!_ what is the matter with my horse?” “Your horse is falling,” said Porthos, reining in his own. In truth, the lieutenant’s horse stumbled and fell on his knees; then a rattling in his throat was heard and he lay down to die. He had received in the chest the bullet of D’Artagnan’s first adversary. D’Artagnan swore loud enough to be heard in the skies. “Does your honor want a horse?” asked Mousqueton. “Zounds! want one!” cried the Gascon. “Here’s one, your honor——” “How the devil hast thou two horses?” asked D’Artagnan, jumping on one of them. “Their masters are dead! I thought they might be useful, so I took them.” Meantime Porthos had reloaded his pistols. “Be on the _qui vive!_” cried D’Artagnan. “Here are two other cavaliers.” As he spoke, two horsemen advanced at full speed. “Ho! your honor!” cried Mousqueton, “the man you upset is getting up.” “Why didn’t thou do as thou didst to the first man?” said Porthos. “I held the horses, my hands were full, your honor.” A shot was fired that moment; Mousqueton shrieked with pain. “Ah, sir! I’m hit in the other side! exactly opposite the other! This hurt is just the fellow of the one I had on the road to Amiens.”