axes, and the occasional crash of a tree falling against the limbs of others, and then striking the ground. Hugh laughed quietly as he saw these signs of activity, and Edgar turned to him inquiringly, for the old soldier was usually rather serious.
"I could not help laughing," Hugh explained, "to see all those rogues so hard at work—for all the world as if they were honest joiners. By my faith—I think it is long since many of their palms have touched any but weapons. But they work in earnest, and we shall have task enough to circumvent their ingenuity. By to-morrow, my lord, there will stones enough be thrown to keep us from dreaming of our sweethearts. Three mangonels are capable of much damage."
"Only three?" Edgar asked. "I have been here a good part of an hour, and it seems to me that a tree falls every minute. Surely they cannot use half a hundred trees in making two or three mangonels."
"You are right," Hugh said, after a moment's reflection. "I would wager a sheaf of arrows and a hunting-horn that they are making another cat—or, no; it is not a cat this time, but probably a siege-tower. If so, we must set up more of our engines of war, for I fear the tower. If they can once bring the tower close enough to our walls,
