bluffly exclaimed Seaton,
springing into his saddle by torchlight the following morning, as with a
gallant band he was about dashing over the drawbridge, to second the
defenders of the barbacan and palisades. "How shall we reward thee, my
boy? Thou hast brought the foe to bay. Hark! they are there before me,"
and he spurred on to the very centre of the _melee_.

Sir Nigel was not long after him. The enemy was driven back with fearful
loss. Scaling-ladders were thrown down; the archers on the walls, better
accustomed to their ground, marking their foes by the torches they
carried, but concealed themselves by the darkness, dealt destruction
with as unerring hand as their more famous English brethren. Shouts and
cries rose on either side; the English bore back before the sweeping
stroke of Nigel Bruce as before the scythe of death. For the brief space
of an hour the strife lasted, and still victory was on the side of the
Scots--glorious victory, purchased with scarce the loss of ten men. The
English fled back to their camp, leaving many wounded and dead on the
field, and some prisoners in the hands of the Scots. Ineffectual efforts
were made to harass the Scots, as with a daring coolness seldom
equalled, they repaired the outworks, and planted fresh palisades to
supply those which had fallen in the strife, in the very face of the
English, many of them coolly detaching the arrows which, shot at too
great distance, could not penetrate the thick lining of their buff
coats, and scornfully flinging them back. Several sharp skirmishes took
place that day, both under the walls and at a little distance from them;
but in all the Scots were victorious, and when night fell all was joy
and triumph in the castle; shame, confusion, and fury in the English
camp.

For several days this continued. If at any time the English, by
superiority of numbers, were victorious, they were sure to be taken by
surprise by an impetuous sally from the besieged, and beaten back with
loss, and so sudden and concealed were the movements of Nigel and
Seaton, that though the besiegers lay closer and closer round the
castle, the moment of their setting forth on their daring expeditions
could never be discovered.

"Said I not we should do well, right well, sweet Agnes," exclaimed
Nigel, one night, on his return from an unusually successful sally, "and
are not my words true? Hast thou looked forth on the field to-day, and
seen how gloriously it went? Oh, to