The sentinel was at his post, and reported nothing amiss, but just as we were midway between his post and the next we heard a grating sound against the coping. It was barely audible above the hiss of the beating rain, but fortunately we stopped to discover the meaning of it. Through the darkness loomed the top rungs of a scaling-ladder and the steel cap of a rebel pikeman. Without a moment's hesitation Granville leant over the wall and gripped the intruder by the throat, calling out to me to push away the ladder. Seizing a ramrod and giving the alarm, I put my whole might into the thrust. The ladder was heavy with armed men, yet my strength prevailed, and I felt the mass of men and timber tremble as it slowly rose to a vertical position. Then, to the accompaniment of cries of terror, the ladder fell backwards, and, to my horror, I found that Granville and the pikeman were locked in an unyielding embrace, and ere I could prevent the catastrophe, Ralph was dragged through the embrasure and had disappeared. There was an appalling crash of broken wood and falling steel, a heavy splash, and another outburst of shouts and cries. Meanwhile the guard had arrived, and the rest of the garrison were soon under arms, yet we were loth to open fire for fear of hitting Granville, and also we dared not show a light. At length there came the sound of retreating footsteps, and then all was quiet. "He is either dead or a prisoner," said Colonel Firestone, who, clad in nothing but his invariable jackboots, long cloak, and steel headpiece, had been one of the first of the sleeping garrison to arrive on the scene. "If he be a prisoner, we must rescue him," I cried. "Who's for a rescue party?" Several men signified their willingness to attempt the hazardous work, but Firestone refused to listen to the proposal, pointing out the hopelessness of the undertaking, when by now my companion, if not dead, would be beyond help within the rebels' lines. While we were still debating, there came the report of a musket from the gatehouse; and fearing another attack, half of our party hurried to the spot. "There's a knocking at the postern, sir," explained the sentry, "but I wouldn't open it." "Quite right, quite right," replied Firestone, and striding over to the wicket, he threw open a sliding hatch; then, keeping well to the side for fear of a treacherous shot, he demanded, "Who goes there?" "'Tis I, Granville," came my comrade's well-known voice. With a shout of delight I made to unbar the gate, but Firestone laid a detaining hand on my arm. "Art alone?" asked the colonel. "Yes, save for a half-drowned rebel," replied Granville, with a slight laugh, and fearing no surprise, we thereupon threw open the postern.