As for me, drops were trickling through my hair and down my cheek, and I needed no astronomer to tell me the earth turned round.

But the Don, when we came to him, was in a worse plight yet.

For he lay where he had fallen, white as a marble statue, his eyes closed, his breath coming and going in quick, short gasps.

As best we could we tore off his breastplate, and looked to the wound beneath.

'Twas but a gash, the ball having grazed the ribs and flattened itself on the steel beyond.