The men tugged and strained, but there was no sign of yielding, and Ben shook his head.
“Rollers must be rusted, sir, and stick.”
But upon his climbing up to examine them, it proved that these had not been made to turn, only for the chains to slide over them, as the grooves worn in the iron showed.
“Nothing to stop ’em here, sir,” said the man.
“Then it must be set fast at the end of the bridge,” said Roy; and, descending with the men, they crossed the moat and found the bridge completely wedged and fixed in the opening of stone which embraced the end.
Picks and crowbars were fetched, the stones and sand scraped out, and when the place was cleared they reascended to the furnace-chamber, when, upon another trial being made, it was found that the weights so accurately balanced the bridge that with very little exertion the chains came screeching and groaning over the iron rollers, and the men gave a cheer as the end rose up and up till it was drawn very nearly up to the face of the tower.
Ben rubbed his ear and grinned with satisfaction.
“Come, sir,” he said, “we can make ourselves pretty safe that way; but I’m afraid the moat’s so filled up that a man can wade across.”
“That he can’t,” cried one of the gardeners. “I’ve plumbed it all over, and there aren’t a place less nor seven or eight feet deep, without counting the mud.”
“Then you’ve been fishing!” thought Roy, but he did not say so, only gave orders for the bridge to be lowered again, and sent a man for a supply of grease to well lubricate the rollers and chains.