So he marched on to the Gansort.

There stood a cart, the home of travelling traders, who had been roused from sleep by the alarm-bell, and were hastily collecting their goods.

An old woman, amid bitter lamentations, was just harnessing a thin horse to the shafts, and from a tiny window a child's wailing voice was heard calling, "mother, mother," and then, "father, father." The fencing-master heard the cry.

The smile faded from his lips, and his step grew heavier.

Then he turned and shouted a loud "Forward" to his men.