After about two hours the besiegers were lucky enough to strike the top of the great crane, just where its three pieces were joined together, and, like a soldier struck in the head, the crane went whirling backward from the ramparts, and fell into the inclosure within, injuring one of the garrison who was standing below it.
A cheer arose from those who were within the cat, and knowing that they could now safely push the cat forward, the soldiers sprang to their levers and crows, and began to advance it toward the castle-wall. It was useless for the garrison to repair the crane, since they knew it would be too late for them to interfere with the operation of the ram, so there was no resistance made, and the cat soon occupied its old place—close against the wall, just below the gateway. Then began the blows of the battering-ram. Ten of the Count's soldiers on each side would rush with the heavy beam, and then let it go. The blows of the iron beak were terrific, and nothing could withstand it. The mortar crumbled, the very stones themselves cracked, and the whole wall trembled at every stroke.
Edgar, who stood upon a tower watching the inner side of the wall, could see it vibrate, and clouds of dust went up. It was easy for him to understand that no masonry could long withstand
