The tower we had marked after sunset was close above us, shining in a light of torches.

We adopted the sensible explanation of this mysterious sight, but were rather in the grip of the superstitious absurd one, until we discerned a number of reddened men.
'Robbers!' exclaimed one of us.

Our common thought was, 'No; robbers would never meet on a height in that manner'; and we were emboldened to mount and request their help.
Fronting the tower, which was of white marble, a high tent had been pitched on a green platform semicircled by pines.

Torches were stuck in clefts of the trees, or in the fork of the branches, or held by boys and men, and there were clearly men at work beneath the tent at a busy rate.
We could hear the paviour's breath escape from them.

Outside the ring of torchbearers and others was a long cart with a dozen horses harnessed to it.