e
destruction of the _testudo_ would be a certainty. Constans raised his
rifle. It was a long shot, but he could not wait to take deliberate aim;
he fired.

The bullet had found its mark, for one man was fallen where he stood and
another nursed a broken wrist. The workers at the gate were thrown into
confusion and the stone settled back into its bed. The assailants
redoubled their efforts, and the thunder of the axe-blows became
continuous.

"Through! they are through!" shouted Constans, and sprang down upon the
banquette. In his excitement he entirely forgot about the new weapon
that had but just now rendered such signal service; he threw aside the
rifle for the more familiar sword. And he noticed that his followers had
acted under the same primitive impulse; the fire-stick might be given
the honor of drawing first blood, but it was for cold steel to finish
the work.

Shoulder to shoulder the men raced across the square to the gate. The
attempt to block up the passage, had failed for lack of time, and the
Stockaders were pouring through pellmell, intent on securing foothold in
the open. The Doomsmen, forsaking the now useless walls, met them man to
man; there was the clash of opposing bucklers, and through the din
pierced the keen, clear ring of blades in play--the Song of the Sword.

The diversion in the rear came at the opportune moment. The Doomsmen had
so far greatly out-numbered the Stockaders, and the latter were being
forced back into the vaulted passage, thereby blocking it against the
main body of their comrades. But now the Doomsmen, attacked from behind,
were obliged to devote part of their attention elsewhere, the pressure
at the gateway was relieved, and reinforcements, with Piers Major and
Piers Minor at their head, made their way through and took active part
in the struggle. Even then the defenders were slightly superior
numerically to the invading party, and the issue remained in doubt.

Constans felt himself carried into the thickest of the press; he fought
on mechanically, thrusting and cutting with the rest, and yet hardly
conscious of what he was doing. His mind would not work easily; he found
himself dwelling upon inconsequential trifles--what had become of his
cap? and how tall was that big fellow with the broad-axe who seemed so
anxious to come to close quarters with him? He was not in the least
afraid, but he wondered if it were possible for him to come out of all
this alive. It seemed unt