“Vivat! vivat!” repeated the officers.
After the officers the soldiers began to shout. The Turks in their trenches heard those shouts, and were alarmed; their courage fell the more. But the bowman, full of joy, bowed to the officers, and showed his mighty palm, which was like a shovel; on it were two blue spots. “True, as God lives! you have the witness here,” said he.
“We believe!” cried all. “Praise be to God that you came back in safety!”
“I passed through the planking,” continued the bowman. “I wanted to burn that work; but I had nothing to do it with.”
“Do you know, Michael,” cried Ketling, “my rags are ready. I am beginning to think of that planking. Let them know that we attack first.”
“Begin! begin!” cried Pan Michael.
He rushed himself to the arsenal, and sent fresh news to the town: “Pan Mushalski was not killed in the sortie, for he has returned, after spiking two heavy guns. He was among the janissaries, who think of rebelling. In an hour we shall burn their woodworks; and if it be possible to make at the same time a sortie, I will make it.”
The messenger had not crossed the bridge when the walls were trembling from the roar of cannon. This time the castle began the thundering dialogue. In the pale light of the morning the flaming rags flew like blazing banners, and fell on the woodwork. The moisture with which the night rain had covered the wood helped nothing. Soon the timbers caught fire, and were burning. After the rags Ketling hurled bombs. The wearied crowds of janissaries left the trenches in the first moments. They did not play the kindya. The vizir himself appeared at the head of new legions; but evidently doubt had crept even into his heart, for the pashas heard how he muttered,—
“Battle is sweeter to those men than sleep. What kind of people live in that castle?”
In the army were heard on all sides alarmed voices repeating, “The little dog is beginning to bite! The little dog is beginning to bite!”