"There is such a glitter from the sun to-day that I cannot see."
"They are cutting up our rampart of yesterday."
"I said there would be an assault. Let us go, Pan Michael; we have stood here long enough."
"They are not digging to make an assault; they must have an open road to return, and besides they will surely bring machines to shoot from. Just see how the shovels are working; they have levelled the ground about forty yards already."
"I see now; but there is a terrible glare to-day." Zagloba covered his eyes with his hand, and looked.
At that moment through the cut made in the rampart rushed a stream of people who scattered in the twinkle of an eye along the space between the ramparts. Some fell to firing; others, digging the ground with spades, began to raise a new mound and trenches to enclose the Polish camp with a third ring.
"Oh, ho!" cried Volodyovski, "the word is scarcely out of my mouth, and they are rolling in the machines."
"Well, there will be an assault soon. Let us leave this place," said Zagloba.
"No; this is another kind of tower," said the little knight.
Really, the machines which appeared in the cut were built differently from the ordinary moving-tower. The walls were composed of ladders fastened together with hasps, covered with cloth and skins, from behind which the best marksmen, sitting from half the height of the machine to the top, struck the enemy.