Only now missiles began to come in
answer from this side and from that, although as yet none struck them.
"Unstring your bow, Dick, and let us charge," said Hugh. "We have no
other chance save flight. They'll pelt us under."
Dick did not seem to hear. At least he shot on as one who was not minded
to die unavenged. An arrow whistled through Hugh's cap, lifting it from
his head, and another glanced from the mail on his shoulder. He ground
his teeth with rage, for now none would come within reach of his long
sword.
"Good-bye, friend Dick," he said. "I die charging," and with a cry of "A
Cressi! A Cressi!" he sprang forward.
One leap and Dick was at his side, who had only bided to sheath his bow.
The mob in front melted away before the flash of the white sword and the
gleam of the grey axe. Still they must have fallen, for their pursuers
closed in behind them like hunting hounds when they view the quarry,
and there were none to guard their backs. But once more the shrill voice
cried:
"Help the friends of the Jews! Save those who saved Rebecca and her
children!"
Then again there came a rush of dark-browed men, who hissed and whistled
as they fought.
So fierce was the rush that those who followed them were cut off, and
Dick, glancing back over his shoulder, saw the mad-eyed priest, their
leader, go down like an ox beneath the blow of a leaded bludgeon.
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