And so we remained, in a soundless hush, as much as a full minute,
everybody gazing, nobody stirring. It seemed as if the king could
not take heart to give the signal. But at last he lifted his hand,
the clear note of the bugle followed, Sir Sagramor's long blade
described a flashing curve in the air, and it was superb to see him
come. I sat still. On he came. I did not move. People got so
excited that they shouted to me:
"Fly, fly! Save thyself! This is murther!"
I never budged so much as an inch till that thundering apparition
had got within fifteen paces of me; then I snatched a dragoon
revolver out of my holster, there was a flash and a roar, and
the revolver was back in the holster before anybody could tell
what had happened.
Here was a riderless horse plunging by, and yonder lay Sir Sagramor,
stone dead.
The people that ran to him were stricken dumb to find that the life
was actually gone out of the man and no reason for it visible,
no hurt upon his body, nothing like a wound. There was a hole
through the breast of his chain-mail, but they attached no importance
to a little thing like that; and as a bullet wound there produces
but little blood, none came in sight because of the clothing and
swaddlings under the armor. The body was dragged over to let
the king and the swells look down upon it.
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