For us sleep was out of the question; and, impatiently pacing the ruined terrace, we awaited the dawn.
At length the pale grey sky began to brighten in the east. A thick, rolling mist filled the valley, while above the banks of vapour the dark, tree-clad downs assumed distorted and indistinct shapes.
Now, of all times, was the rebels' opportunity, but though the breach was lined with our musketeers, there came no sign of the promised assault.
As the day drew on the slanting rays of the rising sun gradually dispersed the mist, and presently we could see the rebel lines, marked by thin columns of smoke, where the men were preparing their morning meal. Then the ground on which the cannon had stood became visible, but instead of the six pieces of ordnance only three remained, each surrounded by a crowd of soldiers.
As we looked, one of the guns was limbered up, and made off in the direction of Chalton village, and shortly afterwards another followed.
Only one now remained, its muzzle threateningly trained on the castle, yet 'twas evident that something was amiss, for men were hard at work on it.
"Firestone has not thrown himself away without reason," I exclaimed. "See, they must have spiked every gun."
"Five of them hopelessly so, it seems," replied Ralph. "Though perchance this one is not totally disabled, and even yet we may get a taste of it."
"The threatened attack at daybreak has not taken place, nevertheless," I observed. "The rebels are not standing to their arms."
"Perchance they await the support of an artillery fire. But let's to breakfast, for later on we may have other work on hand."