though they gave
their lives, and though they pulled down every stone and timber of which
that castle was built, they would save their young king. So with their
friends of Arran they landed in a great body with their machines and
battering engines. Some attacked the raised drawbridge with great
missile weapons, while their companions picked off with their arrows the
archers who were on the battlements.

After a two-hours' storming of the gates the men of Bute forced an
entrance and rushed within the castle, led by Allan Redmain. The
defenders took timely refuge in the donjon keep. But Allan sought not to
follow them. With lighted torches he led his men into the dark chambers
that were in the heart of the castle, till at last he found a chamber
whose floor was stained with blood.

"Methinks," said he, "that this should be the place wherein Duncan slew
his three foes with the Earl Kenric's sword;" and then he called loudly
upon Kenric.

Many times he cried out, but no answer came. Then he bade one of his men
uncoil a rope that he had brought, and Allan, fastening a lighted torch
in his helmet, let himself be lowered into the dungeon whose mouth gaped
in the centre of the floor.

Deep down he went until his feet touched solid ground and he found
himself in a large cavernous chamber. It was a dismal place. The rocky
walls were damp and mouldy; the floor was of hewn stone. There was an
odour as of death in the heavy air.

Holding his torch aloft he peered into the recesses of the dungeon. At
last his eye rested upon what looked like a human form. He started back
in horror as the light fell fuller upon it. Against the wall, crouched
down with his head between his knees, and a few rags of mouldy plaid
about his shoulders, was the grim skeleton of what had once been a
living man.

Allan drew back the tattered plaid and saw the bare ribs and fleshless
arms. And could it be that the young hope of Bute, Kenric the good, the
brave, the true, had come to this?

Allan bent down. He was about to touch the ghastly thing. Then the awful
silence of that black tomb was broken by the sound of a low moan. Allan
listened again, but he heard only the drip, drip of water. Then again
came the moaning sound. He turned round and bounded forward. By the
light of his torch, that pierced the darkness, he saw a pale wan face,
with hollow cheeks and round, staring, brown eyes. The lips moved.

"Allan? Allan?" they faintly said.

And then K