"Much damage?"
"It struck a hard place, but I am still fit."
The blood streamed from the neck of Claiborne's horse, which threw up its
head and snorted in pain, but kept bravely on at the trot in which
Armitage had set the pace.
"Poor devil! We'll have a reckoning pretty soon," cried Armitage
cheerily. "No kingdom is worth a good horse!"
They advanced at a trot toward the Port.
"You'll be afoot any minute now, but we're in good shape and on our own
soil, with those carrion between us and a gap they won't care to drop
into! I'm off for the gate--you wait here, and if Oscar fires the signal,
give the answer."
Armitage galloped off to the right and Claiborne jumped from his horse
just as the wounded animal trembled for a moment, sank to its knees and
rolled over dead.
CHAPTER XXV
THE PORT OF MISSING MEN
Fast they come, fast they come;
See how they gather!
Wide waves the eagle plume,
Blended with heather.
Cast your plaids, draw your blades,
Forward each man set!
Pibroch of Donuil Dhu
Knell for the onset!
--Sir Walter Scott.
Claiborne climbed upon a rock to get his bearings, and as he gazed off
through the wood a bullet sang close to his head and he saw a man
slipping away through the underbrush a hundred yards ahead of him.
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