"This one in the room, to hold it down."
A large beam, fallen from the roof in the adjoining chamber, and still smoking and glowing at one end, was dragged in, and the burning end thrust out through a window. The driving it through the opening, together with the inrush of air to the heated apartments, caused the red and charred wood to burst into light; it projected some ten feet beyond the wall, fizzing, spurting forth jets of blue flame over the abyss.
"Number one!" shouted Ogier. "Make him walk the rafter. Drive him forward with your pikes if he shrinks back."
One of the ruffians of the band, his face as parchment, speechless in the stupefaction of his fear, was made to mount the beam, and then the peasants round shouted, drove at him with their knives and pruning-hooks, and made him pass through the window.
There were three men seated on the end of the beam, which rested on a bench in the chamber.
The moment the unhappy wretch had disappeared through the window, Ogier began to hew with his pick into the floor.
"Forward! He is hanging back! He clings to the wall! Coward! He is endeavouring to scramble in again!" was yelled by the peasants, crowding round the window to watch the man on the charred and glowing beam end.
"Drive him off with a pike! Make him dance on the embers!" called one within, and a reaping-hook, bound to a pole, was thrust forth.
A scream, horrible in its agony, in its intensity; and those seated on the beam felt there was no longer a counterpoise.
Chip, chip, went Ogier.