Bullets still pattered thickly against the stonework of the steeple, while, in addition to the reports of the muskets, the hoarse shouts of the baulked rebels added to the din. After a while we plucked up courage, and, raising ourselves cautiously, we looked over the edge of the parapet. In spite of our danger, we could not help admiring the prospect. Bathed in the slanting rays of the setting sun, the town of Lostwithiel and the surrounding country made a delightful picture, that, were it not for the presence of the rebels, would have been typical of an English countryside. On the east beyond the red-tiled roofs of the timbered houses we could see the road by which we had come, looking like a white thread amidst the dense masses of dark green foliage and the lighter tints of the well-laden fields. Across the silver thread that showed the course of the Foy stream was the old stone bridge, its townward end closed by a rough barricade, through the gaps of which were four pieces of ordnance trained to command the road. Here were strong parties of pikemen and musketeers supporting the gunners, while, on the north side of the town, the rebels were actively engaged in throwing up earthworks. Further up the valley, on the low hills to the left, we could discern a small castle, on which a flag hung motionless in the still air. "Canst make out yonder standard?" asked Firestone, indicating the flag. "Nay, 'tis o'er far," I replied. "It must be the castle of Restormel, of which Captain Dawe spoke. That being so, 'tis the standard of the Hoptons that flies over it." "The rebels are in a great state of activity," he continued, "and, judging by their defence works, I trove that they expect an attack. But we must keep an eye on the trap-door, lest the rogues make an attack under cover of the smoke." By this time the fire had died out, and, though the atmosphere within the belfry was charged with choking fumes, we could breathe with but little difficulty. Looking down, we saw the lower room was deserted, and the ominous silence filled us with misgivings. The sun had set, and twilight was drawing in apace. Thirst and hunger began to make their presence felt, and in desperation I suggested to Firestone that, when it grew dark, we should descend by means of the bell-ropes knotted together, and take the risk of capture rather than starve where we were. "Yes," he replied shortly. "We can but try." We immediately set about unfastening the remaining ropes, out of which we made one stout rope of double thickness, sufficiently long to reach the ground. The oppressive silence still continued, although from the church itself came the discordant sounds of the lawless soldiery. "Hist! Someone comes!" I whispered, as the now familiar noise of footsteps stumbling up the spiral staircase became audible. "For the last time, dogs!" came Chaloner's voice--"will you give yourselves up?"