the tower, for it was impossible to breathe the hot and choking fumes of the pitch; and so they were compelled to retreat again to the south wall, whence they could only watch the advance of the flames that now shone red through the loopholes, and poured out of the doorway as if from the mouth of a volcano. They seemed uncertain what to do. But suddenly the voice of Luke the Lurdane was heard crying: "To the other tower! Down with the door!"
Encouraged by the hope of capturing at least one of the towers, the great beam was lifted again, and with a rush they dashed it upon the oak door. But the Friar had expected this attack, and had provided for it. This was one of the portions of the wall that he and Hugh had undermined, and as soon as an attack was fairly begun upon the door of the southeast tower, the Friar, drawing from his bosom a whistle that hung by a hempen cord around his neck, blew it shrilly three times, and then, after a pause, three times again.
So sharp was the sound that it could be distinguished above all the din of conflict and voices of besiegers and besieged, and it reached the ear for which it was intended. For a soldier had been stationed in the ground floor of that tower, with orders to light a fuse that projected from a hole in the wall at his side. Hearing the whistle,
