The latter gave the horse's nose a sharp blow
as the duke's sweeping blow descended. The animal reared suddenly,
disconcerting the aim, and before its feet touched the ground the
heavy knob of Rupert's stick, driven with the whole strength of his
arm, struck the duke on the forehead.
At the same instant as the duke fell, a lifeless mass, over the
crupper, Rupert leaped to the other side of the horse, placing the
animal between him and the other assailants as they swept down upon
him. Before they could check their horses he vaulted into the
saddle, and with an adroit wheel avoided the rush of the dragoon.
The shouts of the armies, spectators of the singular combat, were
now loud, and the two Frenchmen attacked Rupert furiously, one on
each side. With no weapon but a stick, Rupert felt such a conflict
to be hopeless, and with a spring as sudden as that with which he
had mounted he leapt to the ground, as the general on one side and
the dragoon on the other cut at him at the same moment.
The spring took him close to the horse of the latter, and before
the amazed soldier could again strike, Rupert had vaulted on to the
horse, behind him. Then using his immense strength--a strength
brought to perfection by his exercise at Loches, and his work in
lifting sacks as a miller's man--he seized with both hands the
French soldier by the belt, lifted him from the seat, and threw him
backwards over his head, the man flying through the air some yards
before he fell on the ground with a heavy crash.
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