"What on earth do you want to skin them for, Philip?" Francois asked.
"When they are arranged in a row, I would throw the skins over them again, inside out. The weight of the next row will keep the skins in their places, and it will be impossible for anyone to obtain a footing on that slippery surface, especially if we pour some blood over it."
Francois at once saw the point of the suggestion.
"Excellent, Philip. I wish my brain was as full of ideas as yours is."
The same course was pursued with the other two tiers of carcasses, the hides of the upper row being firmly pegged into the flesh, to prevent their being pulled off. The breastwork was about five feet high, and was absolutely unclimbable.
"It could not be better," Francois said. "A solid work would not be half so difficult to get over. Twenty men here could keep a host at bay."
Another tier of unskinned carcasses was laid down behind the breastwork, for the defenders to stand on; and earth was piled over it, to afford a footing.
They had but just completed their preparations when the trumpet, from above, sounded the signal that the enemy were approaching. All took the posts that they had before occupied. The enemy approached as they had expected, in three bodies; each preceded by a detachment that carried in front of them great faggots, which served as a protection against the missiles of the besieged. Among them were men carrying sacks.
"What can they have there?" Philip asked one of the Huguenot gentlemen.
"I should say it was earth," he replied