little apparatus that had so easily driven the Count's men in headlong fright. He was laughing heartily, but stopped all at once with an exclamation of pain, for he had burned his fingers on the hot metal top of his magic-lantern. Suddenly an outcry from Edgar was heard, and they saw him stooping over the form of the young knight Henry of Huntingdon who lay, apparently lifeless, on the stone floor. It was believed for a moment that he had been struck by a bolt or arrow during the fight, but no sign of a wound could be found. While they were examining him, he suddenly recovered, and muttered feebly: "Oh—the foul fiend himself!"
The Friar then saw that the young knight had been overcome at the sight of the picture on the wall, and full of kindness, bent over to revive him. As soon as the young knight had come to his senses, the Friar told him that what he had seen was no more than a trick of jugglery, and in a few moments the young man was himself again.
Men now went to work to carry out the bodies of the slain, and to remove all traces of the fighting. Sentries were doubled at all the posts, and then all in the castle retired to their apartments thankful that the last sudden attack had been repulsed. Edgar, in the room with the Friar, told
