ose up? Just to drop on their heads
if they were to try swimming the moat."

So a heap of stones grew apace, up in the room above the gate; and
another heap, a shiny spiky dangerous-looking heap, of daggers and
knives.

As Anthea was crossing the courtyard for more stones, a sudden and
valuable idea came to her.

She went to Martha and said, "May we have just biscuits for tea? We're
going to play at besieged castles, and we'd like the biscuits to
provision the garrison. Put mine in my pocket, please, my hands are so
dirty. And I'll tell the others to fetch theirs."

This was indeed a happy thought, for now with four generous handfuls of
air, which turned to biscuits as Martha crammed it into their pockets,
the garrison was well provisioned till sundown.

They brought up some iron pots of cold water to pour on the besiegers
instead of hot lead, with which the castle did not seem to be provided.

The afternoon passed with wonderful quickness. It was very exciting; but
none of them, except Robert, could feel all the time that this was real
deadly dangerous work. To the others, who had only seen the camp and the
besiegers from a distance, the whole thing seemed half a game of
make-believe, and half a splendidly distinct and perfectly safe dream.
But it was only now and then that Robert could feel this.

When it seemed to be tea-time the biscuits were eaten, with water from
the deep well in the courtyard, drunk out of horns. Cyril insisted on
putting by eight of the biscuits, in case anyone should feel faint in
stress of battle.

Just as he was putting away the reserve biscuits in a sort of little
stone cupboard without a door, a sudden sound made him drop three. It
was the loud fierce cry of a trumpet.

"You see it _is_ real," said Robert, "and they are going to attack."

All rushed to the narrow windows.

"Yes," said Robert, "they're all coming out of their tents and moving
about like ants. There's that Jakin dancing about where the bridge
joins on. I wish he could see me put my tongue out at him! Yah!"

The others were far too pale to wish to put their tongues out at
anybody. They looked at Robert with surprised respect. Anthea said--

"You really _are_ brave, Robert."

"Rot!" Cyril's pallor turned to redness now, all in a minute. "He's been
getting ready to be brave all the afternoon. And I wasn't ready, that's
all. I shall be braver than he is in half a jiffy."

"Oh dear!" said Jane, "what does it matt