carried from the field and was not seriously injured. Hugh recognized that the garrison had been outwitted.
"It was the strategy of Luke the Lurdane," Hugh said, "that misled us. He was wise in generalship, and sent his strongest force against the weakest point, while leading us to think that the tower—now, thank the Lord, a pile of charred logs!—was the main reliance of the assault. That showed cleverness, and he overreached me; I admit it." Hugh looked deeply depressed.
"But," the Friar replied, "how could you foretell where he would strike his heaviest blow? You could not see into the tower, and the lines of battle were formed back in the woods, out of sight. Besides, I am not so sure that Luke did not blunder. Suppose that he had packed the tower full of men, and had then poured them out upon the ramparts, armed with scaling-ladders, hooks, and rams—do you not think, my good Hugh, that these men might have beaten in the doors of the tower or keep, and then captured us by assault? It seems to me that Luke's shrewdness overshot his mark. These men of slyness are too apt to think more of deceiving their enemies than of gaining their ends. Come, Hugh, you reasoned well, and it is not strange that an honest head like yours should not always foresee the windings of a shifty
