knife.
Mousqueton, groaning, slipped from his horse, his wound not allowing him to keep the saddle.
On perceiving the cavaliers, D’Artagnan had stopped and charged his pistol afresh; besides, his horse, he found, had a carbine on the bow of the saddle.
“Here I am!” exclaimed Porthos.
“Shall we wait, or shall we charge?”
“Let us charge them,” answered the Gascon.
“Charge!” cried Porthos.
They spurred on their horses; the other cavaliers were only twenty steps from them.
“For the king!” cried D’Artagnan.