laboured amain, stacking logs near by wherewith to feed the
fires.

"Enough," said Beltane at last, "it shall suffice, methinks."

"Suffice?" cried the old man, his eyes bright in the ruddy glow, "aye,
it shall suffice, sweet boy. See--see, the timbers catch e'en now. Ha!
burn, good fire--eat, hungry flame! O, happy sight--would my dear son
were here--they hanged his fair young body, but his soul--Ha, his
soul! O souls of hanged men--O spirits of the dead, come about me, ye
ghosts of murdered youth, come and behold the gibbet burn whereon ye
died. What--are ye there, amid the smoke, so soon? Come then, let us
dance together and trip it lightly to and fro--merrily, merrily! Hey
boy, so ho then--so ho, and away we go!" Hereupon, tossing up gaunt
arms, the old man fell to dancing and capering amid the sparks and
rolling smoke, filling the air with wild talk and gabbling high-pitched
laughter that rose above the roar of the fires. And so in a while
Beltane, sighing, turned and led the way down the hill towards the
glooming shadow of the woods; but ever as they went the flames waxed
fiercer behind them and the madman's laughter shrilled upon the air.

Swift-footed they plunged into the underbrush and thus hidden began to
close in upon Belsaye town. And of a sudden they heard a cry, and
thereafter the shattering blare of a trumpet upon the walls. And now
from within the waking city rose a confused sound, a hum that grew
louder and ever more loud, pierced by shout and trumpet-blast while
high above this growing clamour the tocsin pealed alarm.

Thus, in a while the trembling citizens of Belsaye, starting from their
slumber, stared in pallid amaze beholding afar a great and fiery gibbet
whose flames, leaping heavenward, seemed to quench the moon.

CHAPTER XIII

HOW THEY BRAKE OPE THE DUNGEON OF BELSAYE

Being yet in the shade of the woods, Beltane paused, hearkening to the
distant uproar of Belsaye town and watching the torches that hovered
upon its walls and the cressets that glowed on tower and bartizan.

"Messire Beltane," quoth the friar, setting his rumpled frock in order,
"are ye minded still to adventure breaking ope the dungeon of Belsaye?"

"Aye, verily!" nodded Beltane. "Know you the city, good friar?"

"That do I, my brother: every lane and street, every hole and corner of
it--'twas there I first drew breath. A fair, rich city, freed by
charter long ago--but now, alas, its freedom snatched away, its a