ward, striking right and left with his battle-ax. Edgar warded a blow with the blade of his sword, which broke under the heavy ax, and then, dropping his broken sword, ran in upon Luke, seized him by the neck before he could again raise the ax, and hurled him to the ground. Then before Luke could rise, one of the men-at-arms caught a hooked battle-ax in the fallen man's coat of mail and dragged him inward. The door was then shut in the besiegers' faces, and securely barred.
Luke cried out, "I yield, Edgar Mortimer, rescue or no rescue!" and throwing down his ax, allowed himself to be securely bound.
Meanwhile, the rain of stones and arrows upon the attacking column was too heavy to be endured, and they retreated along the rampart to the shelter of their own tower, in spite of the Count's attempts to rally them, and lead them again against the door. He stood upon the rampart actually alone for a few moments, but another dart from the Friar's well-aimed catapult coming too near for comfort, the Count followed his retreating party, and the door closed behind him. His attack had failed, and his losses had been great. But the Count, as usual, blamed his men for cowardice rather than himself for foolhardiness. He had received a lesson, however, that kept him quiet during the rest of that day, which was fortunate, since
