down and the other half retreated without the slightest regard for the boyar’s counter commands and curses.
“Hurrah for our youths! Hurrah for Maxim! Hurray, Tukhlia!” cheered the encouraged youths.
But the boyar did not allow this vexation to make him forget himself. He assembled another group of Mongols and gave instructions how they should proceed next time, without dispersing at the first attack by the foe but advancing at all hazards over the bodies of their dead. In the meantime Maxim was also instructing his youths as to the procedure they should follow. With weapons held in readiness they awaited another attack by the Mongols.
“Forward! At them!” shouted the boyar and a hailstorm of arrows was released at the Tukholians. The Mongols once more advanced in formation towards the fence. Again when they neared them, the youths released well-aimed shots and a large number of Mongols fell to the ground screaming with pain. However, the remainder did not retreat but ran on yowling piercingly until they reached the fence.
It was a tense moment. The thin partition of fence separated the two mortal enemies who though very close together still could not reach each other. For a moment complete silence fell over both groups, only a rapid, excited breathing could be heard from both sides of the fence. All at once as if upon a given signal the Mongolian battle-axes thundered against the fence and at the same instant the Tukholian youths, with a powerful lifting, swinging motion, pushed it over onto the Mongols. At the same time that the wall fell, knocking down the front row of Mongols, the youths, armed with pole-axes, jumped upon them cleaving their heads open. Blood spurted, the shouts, screams and groans of the foe echoed around the boyar’s domicile and again the group of attackers disbanded leaving their dead and wounded behind them.
A joyous shout of victory from their friends within the
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