It was a fine thing, sir."
The commander, sword in hand, led his reinforcement to the fatal spot
with the speed of the whirlwind. He had almost reached it when he was
suddenly set upon by a company of young bloods belonging to the Maison
du Roi. They were nobles for the most part, and utterly reckless of
their lives. Recognizing the Duke, they made a desperate attempt to
secure him, closing round him with a dash.
"Great Heaven!" ejaculated George Fairburn, as his eye suddenly fell
upon the Duke fighting his way out of the group, and in company with
fifty more he flew to the spot. At that moment Marlborough, now almost
clear, put his horse to a ditch across his track. How it happened no
one could tell exactly, but the rider fell, and dropped into the
little trench. Marlborough's career appeared at an end. His steed was
cantering madly over the field.
But friends were at hand, and before the Frenchmen could complete
their work the little company had beaten them off. George leapt to the
ground, and drew his horse towards the General, who had sprung to his
feet in a trice, nothing the worse.
"Here, sir," said the lieutenant, handing the bridle to an officer in
a colonel's uniform, who stood at hand, and the colonel held the
animal while the Duke mounted.
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