The traveller knew that his only chance was now to close with his foes and grapple with them before they could load their piece again.
His right arm was partially disabled, as he felt in a moment.

He could no longer swing the trusty little axe which had done good service before; but there was the deadly guisarme at his side.
Sultan could be trusted to carry him straight to the foe without any guidance beyond that of the pressure of knee and foot; and grasping the weapon in both hands, he gallantly charged back upon the men, who stood grimly awaiting his next movement with every intention of unhorsing and slaying him.
The odds were heavy against him.

The two ruffians who stood to bar his way were stalwart, powerful fellows, well inured to this kind of warfare; and the chief, who though wounded was not killed, had struggled to his feet, and was plainly endeavouring, though with difficulty, to reach the handgun and reload it.

The girl was still encumbered by the heavy cloak which had been knotted about her head and hands, and was not at once thrown off.

The traveller plainly saw that there was no time to be lost if he was to escape with his own life, or save the damsel from a fate perhaps worse than death.
"Forward, Sultan!" he cried.
And the good horse dashed back upon the enemy; and the youth, holding his weapon in both hands, strove as he passed to deal a deadly blow to one of his assailants.