IN THE HAIL.

Le Gros Guillem was jubilant. He kept his secret. Not to one of his men—not even to his lieutenant did he confide his purpose of surprising the castle and town of La Roque Gageac, for he well knew that no secret is safe when once it has slipped over the lips.

He was in excellent spirits, in buoyant, boisterous humour. He laughed and joked with his men, and Guillem was too grim a man to be often given to jest. He bade his men look to their arms, and he detailed those who were to follow him on an expedition. Whither he was going he did not say—but with him that was usual—he let no breath of rumour escape as to his destination whenever he made a raid, and on this account he was almost always successful; he came down like a bolt out of the sky on some spot, totally unprepared to resist him, and none could betray his scheme, and prepare those fallen upon, for none knew his destination till he started.

"Heliot!" called Guillem, suddenly arresting himself as he was drawing a long sword from the scabbard to examine if it were free of rust. "Did you observe that old man who was here last evening?"

"I saw him come in, Captain."

"But—there is something in his face familiar to me—I fancy I have seen him before—and yet—I am not sure."

"He said that he came from Gageac and had relatives in this town."

"That may be it. To be sure—he told me, a married daughter—I have seen him here at some fair, may be. It will not out of my head, I have seen him—and cannot say where. He looks like a broken priest."

"As he walked he was bowed, and I could not see his face, Captain," answered Heliot.

"It matters not. Is there any moon to-night, Heliot?"

"There is a new moon, Captain; you can see her in the sky, she does not set till early morning, just before daybreak. But we shall see little of her tonight; there are thick clouds coming up against the wind—piled up as though full of thunder."

"So much the better. Heliot, I will tell you now what is to be done—we must cross the Dordogne." More than that he would not say.

The city of Sarlat lies at a distance of several miles from the river, and is accessible by two valleys, one of which opens on to the Dordogne under the rock of Vitrac, a sheer limestone cliff, the top of which is occupied by a village and castle, the foot bathed by the river, and the defile up which the road runs commanded not only by the castle of Vitrac, but by another, a tower on the further side, and these two were designed to completely bar the way to the town. The other way is more tortuous, and was also defended both by the great castle and rock of Beynac and also by a low hill in the midst of the open valley that was likewise fortified. The situation may be best understood if we imagine a great triangular plateau with Sarlat at the apex and the Dordogne flowing at the base; midway on that base stands La Roque.

With the river thus watched and every road guarded jealously, it was important for Le Gros Guillem to cross in the dark, unperceived, lest a warning should be sent to La Roque, and the garrison be set on the alert so that the castellan would be unable to fulfil his engagement.

As the evening closed in the clouds that had been noticed by Heliot covered the whole heavens. There was no wind below; at the same time one must have been blowing aloft, for the vapours parted and disclosed the moon and then drifted over its face again, and through them it peered dimly, like an eye with cataract over it, or else became totally obscured.

The men detailed for the expedition were assembled in the courtyard of the castle. They were not mounted—horses were unnecessary and inconvenient. The tramp might be heard and cause alarm. The routiers remained in their ranks motionless till the word was given, and then silently they defiled out of the castle, through the street of Domme, and the town portcullis was raised to allow them to pass forth.

Le Gros Guillem had boats on the river at his command. And the passage of the Dordogne was effected in the darkness successfully without attention being attracted on the opposite bank. The companions issued from the boats and drew up on the bank till the Captain gave the command to march, when they proceeded down the right bank of the river without speaking and without making any noise. Owing to the rainfall the way was muddy and the mud prevented their tramp from being audible. Shortly before the hour named by the castellan the entire party was near the Sarlat gate, concealed behind vineyard walls and bushes.

The town that was menaced seemed to be buried in slumber and security. The only light discernible was the faint glow through the church window of S. Donat, where the sanctuary lamp burned. There was not even a light in the castle—which in the general darkness was indiscernible—only the mighty cliff into which it was built stood high overhead like a gigantic wave ready to fall and bury everything beneath it. The Captain picked out the men he had fixed on to accompany him and gave his instructions to the others in a whisper. As soon as the alarm-bell sounded in the castle they were to draw rapidly to the gate. Their comrades within would open, "and," said Guillem, "the town is yours—to do as you please therein." Then he advanced cautiously with his five men to the postern at the side and not to the main gate. This postern was small, it would admit but one man at a time.

On reaching it Guillem scratched with the point of his sword, and the signal was answered at once—cautiously the door was unbarred and unlocked and the castellan appeared in it. The clouds had momentarily parted and the new moon gleamed forth and was reflected by the river. Guillem could perceive that this was the same man who had visited him at Domme.

"The word?"

"Le Peuch."

"It is well, Le Peuch. How many?" he asked under his breath.

"Myself and five," answered Guillem.

"It is well—let two men remain here. The others follow me." He led the way up a steep stair of stone steps, past houses built into the rock, past the little church, one wall of which was the rock itself, and the roadway lay almost level with the eave. There was a clock in the tower, it throbbed like the pulse of a living being—the pulse of the whole town, but it beat evenly, as if the town was without fear.

The road lay beneath some houses; for, in order to penetrate from one portion of the town to another, to reach from one ledge of rock with the buildings occupying it where every foot of ground was precious, the path was conducted beneath chambers, in which, overhead, the citizens were peacefully sleeping, unsuspicious of what was proceeding below.

In another moment the platform had been reached below the sheer cliff that rose without so much as a shelf on which a shrub could root itself, even of a cranny in which a pink or harebell might cling.

All was now so dark that Guillem could not see his guide or his men.

Not a sound had been heard in the town—and here there was nothing audible save a cat that was mewing. It had been shut out of a house and feared that a storm was coming on. The time was winter, the little creature was cold, and it craved for the warmth and the dryness of the kitchen hearth. The foolish cat came up to Le Gros Guillem and rubbed herself against his legs and pleaded for attention. Irritated at her persistence and cries, the Captain dealt her a kick which sent her flying and squealing. Then he regretted that he had done this, lest her shrill cry should reach the mistress and induce her to open the door and show a light.

But no token followed and showed that the cat had been heard. Again the creature came near, mewing. The darkness was so dense that nothing could be seen, not even the rock in front, only the buildings round loomed black against the sky that was but a shade lighter than the rock.

Then hail rushed down, hissing, leaping, and with the hail a flash of lightning revealing the blank wall of rock in front and the floor over which the hailstones ran and spun.

"Where is the stair?" asked Le Gros Guillem of the castellan, who kept at his side.

"Stair—what stair?"

"The way by which we are to mount into the castle?"

The old man chuckled.

"Wait a while," said he in a whisper. "When next the lightning flashes look ahead of you—a little to the right, and you will see a cobweb path up the face of the rock."

"Lead us to the path—cobweb or not we will mount it. We are accustomed to that, and this is tedious—tarrying here. Curse that cat! Here she is again!"

"Ah, Messire—you do not comprehend. Have you never been in La Roque?"

"I? Never! Do you suppose they would suffer me within the walls?"

"Then, Messire, you cannot understand how it is that of the garrison none are awake, how it comes that there is no need for watchfulness. Wait a while, the lightning—there—did you see?"

The old man pointed in the direction of the stair. The construction of this path of ascent has been already described. It consisted of a ladder of pegs driven into the rock, each peg sustained by a wedge underneath it. Nothing was easier than by a blow to loosen the wedge and to throw the steps down, and when down no passage could be effected to or from the castle along the face of the rock.

"Did you observe?" asked the old man.

"I observed nothing save a stair."

"Look at the base of the stair. Ah! the hail! how it whitens the ground, how it lights up the landscape. One can see a little now, and presently, if you will have patience, Messire, I will explain it all."

"I want no explanation, I want to mount the stair and enter the castle."

"You cannot mount the stair. It is not possible. There—another flash—now do you see? All the lower portion is removed, so that, till put together again in the morning, no one can ascend. Moreover, there aloft is a landing place, and between that landing place and the gate there is a gap—and over that a draw-plank is lowered. Now, at night, all the lowest rungs of the stair are taken away and above the plank is lifted. There is no possibility of anyone mounting by that means."

"Then, in the devil's name, why have you brought us here? I tell you, old man, I will drive my poignard down your throat if you have dared to deceive me."

"I deceive you! Oh, Messire! There is a second way of entering the castle."

"And that is——?"

"See!"

Again the lightning flickered, and now the clouds parting allowed the moon to flash over the whitened earth and show the great wall of chalk rock in front mounting into the sky and white as the ghostly clouds touched by moonlight that moved above it. The freebooter saw something hanging down the face of the cliff. It was a rope, and at the end was a bar of wood some two feet long which it held in a horizontal position by a knot in the middle.

"My good friend, whom you will have to reward, is above at the windlass. You can mount, Messire. I have but to shake the cord and put my fingers into my mouth and hoot as an owl and he will begin to wind up. It is by this means that provisions are carried up, and by this one can go up or down when the passage of the stair is cut off. Will you please to mount first—or shall I, most honoured Captain?" The castellan took off his hat and bowed.

Le Gros Guillem looked up a sheer height of a hundred feet; in the uncertain light it appeared as though this cord was let down out of the sky. He was a man who rarely knew fear—in the heat of conflict he never knew it at all. He was dauntless in every daring feat; but this was a venture sufficient to make even him hesitate. He knew not who was the man at the capstan above. He was not sure that the rope would endure his weight.

"Oh," said the castellan, "if you are afraid to trust yourself to this cord, you must e'en return by the way you came. I thought other of Le Gros Guillem, of the famous Captain. I did not think he would quail as a girl from such a trifle as this. I will ascend first, and then you may pluck up heart to follow an old man."

The castellan went to the rope and shook it twice, then imitated the scream of an owl, and instantly planted himself on the pole and held the cord with both hands. He began at once to ascend.

The sky cleared of thunder-cloud and the wan new moon illumined the scene. The rock was white, and against it mounted a dark figure with a darker shadow. The windlass moved noiselessly; Le Gros Guillem and his men below heard no sound. The dark figure slid up the rock and became smaller, ever smaller, and then disappeared. In the uncertain light, at the great elevation they could not see, but supposed the castellan had passed through a window into the castle.

Then rapidly down came rope and pole, and the latter hung swaying at a couple of feet above the hail-strewn platform.

"In the devil's name, I will try it!" said Guillem, and committed himself to the bar. He grasped the rope and hooted. At the same moment the cat leaped and lighted on his shoulder. He would have thrust it off, but could not. The rope had tightened, was straining, and he was carried upwards off his feet.