“No. Absurd.”
“But we’d get ’em up again, sir.”
“Wait till the enemy have gone,” said Roy, “and then we’ll see.”
A portion of the afternoon was devoted to taking up the necessary ammunition and re-arranging the top platform they had to prepare for the guns; and just at dusk, after the sentinels had been doubled, a strong party stood in the gate-way, armed with shovel and pick, waiting for the bridge to be lowered. Another party had a number of beams; and, lastly, already drawn up, stood a guard prepared to watch over the safety of the workers, and hand them weapons for their defence, if, perchance, they were seen by the enemy, and an attempt made to rush in.
But no sign was given to warn the parliamentarians, and Roy and the secretary stood on the platform of the great gate-way, watching the enemy, till, in the dim light, a body of men marched to the front, halted a quarter of a mile from the gate; a large square was rapidly marked out with pegs, and then an order seemed to be given, for the party began at once to dig and throw up a breastwork, evidently for the shelter of their guns.
Master Pawson watched everything eagerly, and kept on pointing out what was going on, while Roy leaned upon one of the guns, saying, “I’ve been wondering whether these guns will carry as far as that work they are making—I mean so as to hit hard.”
“They think they will not,” said the secretary, “and have placed their battery just out of reach.”
“How do you know?” said Roy, sharply.
“I—oh, of course, I don’t know,” said Master Pawson; “it is only what I judge from seeing them make their battery there.”
“Oh, I see,” said Roy, quietly. And he thought no more of the remark just then. He waited till the figures of the men digging grew more and more indistinct, and then quite invisible from where they stood; and he was just about to descend, when the sergeant joined them, to say, respectfully—