An hour later the sentry reported that he could hear the sound of
many feet in the darkness, with the occasional snapping as of dry
twigs.
"They are going to burn down the door," Malcolm said. "That is
what I expected. Now, sergeant, is your time. They are all busy
and intent upon their purpose. You could not have a better time."
The rope was fastened round the sergeant's waist, and with some
difficulty he squeezed himself through the narrow window, after
listening attentively to discover if any were below.
All seemed perfectly still on this side, and he was gradually and
steadily lowered down. Presently those above felt the rope slack.
Another minute and it swung loosely. It was drawn up again, and
Malcolm, placing one of the men at the loophole, with instructions
to listen intently for any sound of alarm or conflict, turned his
attention to the other side.
Soon he saw a number of dark figures bearing on their heads great
bundles which he knew to be faggots approaching across the snow.
As they approached a brisk fire suddenly opened on the tower.
Malcolm at once called the sentry down.
"It is of no use exposing yourself," he said, "and we could not
do much harm to them did we take to stoning them again. We have
nothing to do now but to wait."
Soon a series of dull heavy crashes were heard as the faggots were
thrown down against the door.
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