"To Morteyn?" whispered Jack. "Perhaps we can find a surgeon nearer--"
"Oh, hurry!" she sobbed; and he climbed heavily to the seat and started back towards the road.
The road was empty where he turned in out of the fields, but, just above, he heard cannon thundering in the mist. As he drew in the reins, undecided, the cannonade suddenly redoubled in fury; the infantry fire blazed out with a new violence; above the terrific blast he heard trumpets sounding, and beneath it he felt the vibration of the earth; horses were neighing out beyond the smoke; a thousand voices rose in a far, hoarse shout: "Hurrah! Preussen!"
The Prussian cavalry were charging the cannon.
Suddenly he heard them close at hand; they loomed everywhere in the smoke, they were among the infantry, among the cannoneers; a tall rider in silver helmet and armour plunged out into the road behind them, his horse staggered, trembled, then man and beast collapsed in a shower of bullets. Others were coming, too, galloping in through the grain stubble and thickets, shaking their long, straight sabres, but the infantry chased them, and fell upon them, clubbing, shooting, stabbing, pulling horses and men to earth. The cannon, which had ceased, began again; the infantry were cheering; trumpets blew persistently, faintly and more faintly. In the road a big, bearded man was crawling on his hands and knees away from a dead horse. His helmet fell off in the dust.
Jack gathered the reins and called to the horse. As the heavy cart moved off, the ground began to tremble again with the shock of on-coming horses, and again, through the swelling tumult, he caught the cry-"Hurrah! Preussen!"
The Prussian cuirassiers were coming back.
"Is Sir Thorald dying?" he asked of Alixe; "can he live if I lash the horse?"
"Look at him, Jack," she muttered.
"I see; he cannot live. I shall drive slowly. You--you are wounded, are you? there--on the neck--"
"It is his blood on my breast."