short end swung furiously
down, the long end went as furiously round up, and at its highest
elevation flung the huge stone out of the sling with a tremendous jerk.
In this case the huge mass so flung missed the knight; but came down
near him on the penthouse, and went through it like paper, making an
awful gap in roof and floor. Through the latter fell out two inanimate
objects, the stone itself and the mangled body of a besieger it had
struck. They fell down the high curtain side, down, down, and struck
almost together the sullen waters of the moat, which closed bubbling
on them, and kept both the stone and the bone two hundred years, till
cannon mocked those oft perturbed waters, and civilization dried them.

"Aha! a good shot," cried Baldwyn of Burgundy.

The tall knight retired. The besiegers hooted him.

He reappeared on the platform of the barbican, his helmet being just
visible above the parapet. He seemed very busy, and soon an enormous
Turkish catapult made its appearance on the platform and aided by the
elevation at which it was planted, flung a twentypound stone some two
hundred and forty yards in the air; it bounded after that, and knocked
some dirt into the Lord Anthony's eye, and made him swear. The next
stone struck a horse that was bringing up a sheaf of arrows in a cart,
bowled the horse over dead like a rabbit, and spilt the cart. It was
then turned at the besiegers' wooden tower, supposed to be out of shot.
Sir Turk slung stones cut with sharp edges on purpose, and struck it
repeatedly, and broke it in several places. The besiegers turned two
of their slinging engines on this monster, and kept constantly slinging
smaller stones on to the platform of the barbican, and killed two of
the engineers. But the Turk disdained to retort. He flung a forty-pound
stone on to the besiegers' great catapult, and hitting it in the
neighbourhood of the axis, knocked the whole structure to pieces, and
sent the engineers skipping and yelling.

In the afternoon, as Simon was running back to his mantelet from a
palisade where he had been shooting at the besieged, Denys, peeping
through his slit, saw the poor fellow suddenly stare and hold out his
arms, then roll on his face, and a feathered arrow protruded from his
back. The archer showed himself a moment to enjoy his skill. It was the
Englishman. Denys, already prepared, shot his bolt, and the murderous
archer staggered away wounded. But poor Simon never moved. His w