"Missed!" he muttered, with vexation, "and it's the last! Here, Jakó," he said, turning to the dog-keeper, "just go and fetch me the great Székely bow from the dining hall! you know, the one which takes three of us to string it."
While Jakó was gone, Talabor observed that one body of Tartars was stealing along under the trees close beside the moat, towards the south side of the castle, and that Libor had dismounted, and was creeping along with them.
"What can those rascals mean to do?" whispered the governor.
"I know!" said Talabor, "the traitor! I know well enough what he's after! but he's out! The wretch! he thinks he shall find the wall on that side in the same tumble-down state in which it was the last time he was here!"
"True!" returned the governor, "they are making straight for it."
"You there at the bastion, quick! follow me," he went on, hurrying along the parapet to where the Mongols seemed to intend a mighty assault.
The dog-keeper, who had come back with the bow, climbed the wall by the narrow steps, and he, too, followed Talabor.
Libor was creeping along on foot among his men, wearing a coat of mail, and so managing as to be out of range of the arrows of the defenders. Libor thoroughly understood how to avail himself of shelter, and here, close to the wood, had no difficulty in finding it.
To his great chagrin, however, he found that he had miscalculated. The wall had been so well repaired that if anything it was even stronger here than elsewhere.
Talabor and his party had no sooner made their appearance than they were observed, in spite of the gathering twilight, and were the targets for a cloud of arrows. They withdrew behind the breastwork, and after some difficulty succeeded in stringing the great Székely bow. Whereupon, Talabor chose the longest arrow from Jakó's quiver, fitted it to the string, straightened himself, and, as he did so, he caught sight of Libor. Libor also recognised his worst enemy at the self-same moment, and turning suddenly away made for the wood.