“I was up atop of the great tower this morning.”
“I know. I saw you there.”
“I was looking at the furnace and thinking that must be touched up a bit, and a good supply of wood and charcoal carried to it. There is plenty of lead at the foot of the north-east tower.”
“Ugh! We don’t want to do any of those barbarous things, Ben; they’re too horrible. Fancy pouring molten lead down on people’s heads.”
“We don’t want to pour no molten lead down on people’s heads, sir,” protested the old soldier. “All we says to ’em is, we’ve got a whole lot of hot silver soup up here, and we shall pour it down on you if you come hanging about our place, and trying to get in. Let ’em stop away, and then they won’t be hurt.”
“But it’s too horrible, Ben. I will not have that got ready.”
“Very well, sir. I don’t know that it much matters, for they’ve got to cross the moat first, and I don’t think we’ll let ’em do that. The only way the enemy will get in here will be through traitors in the camp.”
“And we shall not have any of them, Ben.”
“Hope not, sir.”
“So if we are to fight, let it be in a fair, manly, chivalrous way.”