Adventure Magazine Cover, August 18, 1921 — page 66: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

60 forest by the way they had come that morning. But the greater part were driven out on the bare rock at the foot of the knoll and back to the steep cliff-like slope that here formed the western side of the ridge. Above it rose the knoll itself, like a tower on a wall. Here they had a brief respite. A zigzag path ran up the face of the cliff, branching near the top to reach the summit of the ridge on either side of the knoll. By this path the two detachments of foresters were in touch. with each other and the men-at- arms of Monrepaire below, while the pur- suers, obliged to account for both detach- ments, were now divided into two bodies, with the whole mass of the knoll between them. Moreover, the overhang of the knoll protected the foresters from Godulf’s arrow- flights. Never had Sir Richard meant that his thirty dismounted men-at-arms should scale this path so long as any sort of enemy held the top. He had planned on a bloodless victory, on frightening waterless knaves into submission. But the sight of their own comrades being driven to the edge of the precipice was too much for hot Norman blood to endure. Led by Black John, their captain, they pressed up the slope, guarding their heads with upraised shields. They were up too far to withdraw easily, clambering with straining sinews, when suddenly from the crest of the knoll great round rocks came thundering down upon them. Since dawn the Saxon boys and women, toiling side by side with Godulf’s thirty men, had been collecting those stones against this very time. Herein, too late, the Rotten Reiver rec- ognized a generalship greater than any serf could boast, greater than his own. Too late he understood the cunning with which half the peasant force, unknown to him, had been withdrawn from the knoll before his arrival to fall upon de Born, arm its Saxons with his captured weapons, mount half its force with the chargers of the Brown Bull. And now, even while he cursed and shouted vain orders, those Saxon women and boys aided their men to launch destruc- tion on his men-at-arms, to toil at the levers, to pry away and launch whole cornices of cracked and overhanging rock. Beneath that avalanche of granite men-at-arms and foresters, shields, helmets, steel-clad bodies Adventure —all were crushed and swept utterly away. Those of the Reiver’s bowmen who escaped this fate found themselves caught in a ter- rible sally and flung flying down the wrecked path, pursued by the arrows of the Saxon archers who thronged eagerly to the edge of the cliff. Zy» § ONCE more the peasant horsemen 42%) swept in to make an end of the shat- saan tcred Normans. a voice and hand to rally those left to him, the Rotten Reiver turned to meet the charge. Thirty-three foresters and four- teen men-at-arms were all he could oppose to the advance. But he brought them into battle-array with brilliant swiftness, arch- ers on wings and rear. Defeat and death threatened him as never before. He flouted them with a keen-eyed courage that watched for the slightest advantage. He found his advantage, but too late to use it. Foremost among his enemies rode two men well armed and strongly made, men who managed their beasts and bore themselves like Normans. On the body of the one he recognized de Born’s splendid armor, the other was accoutered like a man- at-arms. Save for these two, the rest, though well equipped with the spoil of the Brown Bull, rode ill and strung out and brandished their weapons wildly like the Sax- on serfs they were. When they closed with him, Sir Richard knew the first two would bore deep. The rest, flung back like waves from a cliff, would break. But they did not close. Seeing how quickly and well the Reiver had rallied, Gislac ordered a halt. Unwill- ingly, in confusion, the peasants obeyed. Geoffrey, burning to bring the battle to an issue, would have spurred on, but his own good sense bidding him heed his friend’s command, he reined in three spear-lengths in advance of the rest and trotted slowly back. Scarcely could he believe that his uncle had not recognized him, but he knew | not how Racul’s plundered helmet with its deep nasal had concealed his face. For the first time in his life Richard de Monrepaire retreated, and he retreated in good order, ready to turn and sting. The score of men too badly wounded to fight were lifted into the saddles of the spare horses. Slowly at first, then more and more rapidly, he withdrew. From mid-afternoon till dusk the beaten © Himself striving. MICLOOKS C©