"Going to try a battering ram," said Tom, rather scared at the sight.
"We'll give 'em battering," came the reassuring words from the rifleman.
"I've two men posted down in the yard with their carbines, and we've knocked a couple of holes in the gates. If we can't reach the enemy from above here, the boys below can manage. They've filled up their barrels with pebbles scraped up from between the paving stones. The shots will scare the peasants same as if they was birds."
A glance at the sturdy fellow showed that he had no fears with regard to his own particular defences, and, staying there a moment, Tom had full reason to trust him; for the mob outside were in such temper that delay was out of the question. Some fifty of their number began to fire at the gateway and at the trapdoor above, while their comrades picked up the huge beam and advanced at a run, shouting loudly to encourage one another. Crash! went the end of the beam against the gates, shaking them severely. Then came the clatter of stones. Standing well above the attackers, Howeley and his two troopers advanced in turn, elevated a paving stone, took careful aim, and then threw it downwards. With a shout of terror the attackers promptly retired. A minute later, however, they came forward again at a run, and on this occasion a dozen of their number bore muskets. Stationing themselves in such position that they could fire through the open trap, they sent their bullets thudding into the ceiling of the room, making it impossible for Howeley and his men to take effective aim. Meanwhile the others ran in, and, picking up their beam, swung it backward in preparation for another blow.
"Jest you keep on tossing them stones over," commanded Howeley, as if the troopers could understand every word. "Savvy, me lads? Don't show up, but jest lift a stone same as this, standing well back, and heave it through. It'll hit something."
It did. A howl from below, and a chorus of shouts and cries greeted the stone, while one of the men holding the beam fell as if struck by a poleaxe.
"Savvy?" asked Howeley curtly.
"Bien!" came the equally curt answer.
"Then jest you look to it."