Max's great battle-axe crushed the Black Eider's helmet as if it were an egg-shell, and the captain of our foes fell backward, hanging by his stirrups.

One of our squires shot one of the robbers, and the remaining three took flight.
Max caught the captain's horse, and coolly extricated the dead man's feet from the stirrups.

Then he thrust the body to the roadside with the indifference of a man whose life has been spent in slaughter.

Among his many inheritances, Max probably had taken this indifference, together with his instinctive love of battle.

He was not quarrelsome, but he took to a fight as naturally as a duck takes to water.
When the robbers had left, Yolanda came running from her hiding-place.
She was not frightened; she was aglow with excitement.