Beyond the hillock a besieging army of three thousand men slept in security, save for the hundred who kept guard about the mortar. These five-score men were wakeful; for Colonel Rigby—a weakling cloaked in self-importance—had blustered round them an hour ago, had assured them that Lady Derby was the Scarlet Woman, known otherwise as Rome, and with quick invective had threatened them with torture and the hangman if they allowed this second mortar to go the way its predecessor had taken weeks ago. He had sent an invitation broadcast through the countryside, he explained, bidding folk come to see the mortar play on Lathom House to-morrow. Through the dusk of the moonlight Kit and the rest crept forward. Quick as the sentry shouted the alarm, they were on their feet. They poured in a broadside of musketry at close range, then pressed forward, with swords, or clubbed guns, or any weapon that they carried. It was not a battle, but a rout. In ten minutes by the clock they found themselves masters of the field. The mortar was theirs, and for the moment they did not know what to do with it. From behind came the sleepy roar of soldiery, new-roused from sleep by the retreating guardians of the mortar, and there was no time to waste. One Corporal Bywater, a big, lean-bodied man, laughed as he touched Kit on the arm. "Had a wife once," he said. "She had her tantrums, like yond mortar—spat fire and venom with her tongue. I cured her with the help of a rope’s end." Bywater, remembering the previous escapade, had lashed two strong ropes about his body, in readiness for this second victory. The cordage, as it happened, had saved him from a death-wound, struck hurriedly by a Parliament man. He unwrapped it now with a speed that seemed leisurely. Rigby’s soldiery, from the moonlit slopes behind, buzzed like a hornet’s nest. There was indeed no time to waste. Christopher Metcalf was not tired now, because this hazard of the Lathom siege had captured his imagination. His soul was alert, and the travel-stained body of him was forgotten. Captain Chisenhall detached fourteen of the sortie party to drag the mortar into Lathom House. The rest he sent forward, raised a sudden shout of "For God and the King!" and went pell-mell into the first of Rigby’s oncoming men. Though on foot, there was something of the dash of cavalry in this impetuous assault, and for a while they drove back the enemy; then weight of numbers prevailed, and Kit, his brain nimble, his heart singing some old pibroch of the hills his forefathers had tilled, entrenched his men on the near side of the earthworks Rigby had built to protect his mortar. There was some stark, in-and-out fighting here, until the Roundheads began to deploy in a half circle, with intent to surround Kit’s little company. Then he drew back his men for a score yards, led a last charge, and retreated to the Lathom gateway in time to see the mortar dragged safely into the main courtyard.