We pulled up the bell-ropes as far as the knots for the ringers' hands would allow, then set laboriously to work to chafe through the stout hempen cords by the edge of one of the bells. We had barely sawn through three ropes, and detached their other ends from the massive wheels, when we heard the noise of scuffling feet hastily making the way up the worn steps of the spiral staircase, accompanied by the unmistakable rustle of straw. [Illustration: _Seized by the arms and legs, the terrified rogue was hurled into the river._] "They are going to burn us out," I exclaimed. "Trying to, you should say," replied Firestone. "Unless they actually set fire to the steeple, which Heaven forfend, we can laugh at them." Piling a heap of straw and hay on the stone floor of the tower immediately below the trap-door of the belfry, the rebels called on us once more to come down. The only reply was a piece of wood, small 'tis true, but thrown with unerring aim. It caught one of the soldiers fairly on the top of his bare head, for he had removed his steel cap, and, with a yell of pain, he dashed for the doorway of the spiral staircase, not knowing in his fright whether he had been shot at or not. Coming into violent contact with another man who was bringing up some more straw, the twain fell in a confused heap, and we could hear them bumping and jolting down the narrow steps. "Capitally done, Humphrey!" exclaimed the colonel. "Had we but a goodly store of missiles, we could hold them at bay." "Which we have not, unfortunately," I rejoined. Experience had taught the rebels a lesson, for, having donned the steel cap, another soldier set match to the heap of straw, and the next instant a pillar of flame shot upwards, the fiery tongues actually licking the sides of the trap-door, by which we were lying. But to destroy us by fire was not their object, for one of the men soused the fiercely-burning mass with water. The clear flame gave place to a dense column of blinding smoke, and in a few seconds we were choking and coughing furiously. Firestone gripped me by the shoulder, and, forcing our way through the smoke, we reached a little doorway in one of the hexagonal sides of the steeple, which gave access to a narrow platform surrounded by a parapet. Here we stood, once more in God's good sunshine, half blinded and suffocated. Drawing in the pure air to our smoke-laden lungs, we had no thoughts for anything but the delights of the life-restoring atmosphere, till the thud of a bullet on the stonework close to our heads warned us that our enemies had expected our appearance, and were firing at us from the street. Instinctively we dropped behind the parapet, lying in the lead gutters, still taking in copious draughts of air, while from the doorway through which we had emerged came thick columns of smoke.