The fight had lasted but a few moments, and already five of them were stretched upon the ground, and a sixth disabled.

There was something in the Tavern Knight's attitude and terrific, blood-bespattered appearance that deterred them.

From out of his powder-blackened face his eyes flashed fiercely, and a mocking diabolical smile played round the corners of his mouth.

What manner of man, they asked themselves, was this who could laugh in such an extremity?
Superstition quickened their alarm as they gazed upon his undaunted front, and told themselves this was no man they fought against, but the foul fiend himself.
"Well, sirs," he mocked them presently.

"How long am I to await your pleasure ?" They snarled for answer, yet hung back until Colonel Pride's voice shook them into action.