t about dawn, possibly earlier.

I groped my way back to the corral now; I had seen enough. I went
to the platform and signaled to turn the current on to the two
inner fences. Then I went into the cave, and found everything
satisfactory there--nobody awake but the working-watch. I woke
Clarence and told him the great ditch was filling up with men,
and that I believed all the knights were coming for us in a body.
It was my notion that as soon as dawn approached we could expect
the ditch's ambuscaded thousands to swarm up over the embankment
and make an assault, and be followed immediately by the rest
of their army.

Clarence said:

"They will be wanting to send a scout or two in the dark to make
preliminary observations. Why not take the lightning off the
outer fences, and give them a chance?"

"I've already done it, Clarence. Did you ever know me to be
inhospitable?"

"No, you are a good heart. I want to go and--"

"Be a reception committee? I will go, too."

We crossed the corral and lay down together between the two inside
fences. Even the dim light of the cave had disordered our eyesight
somewhat, but the focus straightway began to regulate itself and
soon it was adjusted for present circumstances. We had had to feel
our way before, but we could make out to see the fence posts now.
We started a whispered conversation, but suddenly Clarence broke
off and said:

"What is that?"

"What is what?"

"That thing yonder."

"What thing--where?"

"There beyond you a little piece--dark something--a dull shape
of some kind--against the second fence."

I gazed and he gazed. I said:

"Could it be a man, Clarence?"

"No, I think not. If you notice, it looks a lit--why, it _is_
a man!--leaning on the fence."

"I certainly believe it is; let us go and see."

We crept along on our hands and knees until we were pretty close,
and then looked up. Yes, it was a man--a dim great figure in armor,
standing erect, with both hands on the upper wire--and, of course,
there was a smell of burning flesh. Poor fellow, dead as a
door-nail, and never knew what hurt him. He stood there like a
statue--no motion about him, except that his plumes swished about
a little in the night wind. We rose up and looked in through
the bars of his visor, but couldn't make out whether we knew him
or not--features too dim and shadowed.

We heard muffled sounds approaching, and we sank down to the ground
where we were. We mad