Part 38 (1/2)

Then the long lances with their fluttering streaether as they were laid in rest How looked they like the full grown field of grain as it doth bend before the hot blasts of summer

”Now, Walter, we must find Catesby!” cried Harleston

”Yea, _I_ must find him,” I replied between reat cheer and then leaned forith his ood e steed's neck

On we flehilst forward dashed a band of knights and squires toout on every side

A crash!+--curses,--cheers and groans! and then the sharp swords flashed over head, and the shi+elds rang out right lustily

My lance did resist the shock of the first encounter; the knight against whoh he had been a reed

Sharply I spurred ht, which bravely carasp

Drawing ain made at him Then came a terrible blow upon

Soht whilst I was drawing onist His lance's point had struck beneathEdward's noble present that I owed my life

II kneas a knee upono'er me

”Noill finish the work left incomplete when last we er, and now he drew it back to strike

The only sensation I then felt was a curiosity to knoould feel to die The stroke I cared not for; but yet I wondered, with a kind of disinterestedness, how one would feel as the soul was parting from the body It must have been that my senses were still scattered, or I had not acted thus No resistance did Iawaited the fatal blohere et

All this could not have takento fly across the heavens; for still the dagger stayed poised in the air

”Hark ye!” hissed Catesby in e unto hell Say that I, Catesby, did send thee to thy ed, I'll not be long behind thee” Then up higher flew the threatening blade Then did it start on its doard course It never reached reat hand seizedhand until the arm snapped like a dry stick

Catesby flew into the air as though drawn by a ain with stunning force, and reat Michael kneeled beside me

”Art thou hurt, yer honour?” he asked anxiously

”Nay, Michael; I got but a sudden fall that dazed ain do I feel a man” And with Michael's assistance I arose to my feet

Then Catesby stirred, and Michael was upon hier in hand, and drawn back for the fatal blow

”Hold! hold, Michael! slay him not! I must question him!” I cried

”Uh! bad luck to me fer a blunderin' fool; sure we must foind out whare he has the dear lady kipt, ere we send the varmint to roast in sulphur”