s would immediately discard their now useless
bucklers and begin to ply their axes, protected from overhead assaults
by the overlapping shields of their comrades. The formation advanced
steadily; there was a suggestion of terrific irresistibility in the very
slowness of its progress; to the eager fancy it might have been the
veritable recreation of some prehistoric monster, the illusion being
heightened by the torchlight that flickered uncertainly over the rounded
bellies of the shields of greenish leather and was reflected redly from
their copper bosses.

The defence had been quick to recognize the character of the assault,
and had done their best to repel it. The catapults had been brought
into action, and their huge projectiles hurtled constantly through the
air, but for the most part innocuously, the machines not being in the
best of order and the artillerymen unpractised in their use. It was not
until the _testudo_ had advanced to within fifty yards that a shot
discharged by a machine, worked by Quinton Edge in person, took effect,
the missile striking the _testudo_ on the left wing and disabling three
men. Before the advantage could be followed up the files had been closed
again and the formation had advanced so far that the catapults became
useless, it being impossible to depress them beyond a certain angle. The
front rank had now reached the barrier, and the axes fell furiously upon
the wooden leaves of the gate. The Doomsmen on the walls renewed the
attack with hand-weapons, the slingers and archers hurling their
missiles vertically downward and the spearmen watching their opportunity
for an effective body-thrust. The affair would be short and sharp, for
the _testudo_ could not be expected to hold its position for longer than
a few minutes--it was not in flesh and blood to withstand indefinitely
that fierce and deadly shower. Already there were gaps in the protective
roof of shields--impossible to repair, for in that close-packed mass the
bodies of the wounded and dead impeded the progress of those who would
otherwise have taken their places. Yet the struggle went stubbornly on.

A sharp-eyed youth who was lying next to Constans touched him on the
arm, directing his attention to a squad of the defenders who were
working to dislodge one of the massive coping-stones of the gateway
arch. Already it was oscillating under the heave of the levers; if it
fell, a score of men might be crushed beneath its weight, and th