They advanced confidently until within twenty yards of the tower, then there was the sharp crack of a pistol, and one of them fell forward on his face, the other hesitated and stood irresolute, then, summoning up courage, he sprang forward.
As he did so another shot flashed out, and he, too, fell prostrate, the brand hissing and spluttering in the snow a few feet from the pile of brushwood.

A loud yell of rage and disappointment arose on the night air, showing how large was the number of peasants who were watching the operations.

Some time elapsed before any further move was made on the part of the assailants, then some twenty points of light were seen approaching.
"Donald," Malcolm said to the soldier, "go up to the top of the tower with your comrades.

They are sure to light the pile this time, but if it is only fired in one place you may possibly dash out the light with a stone." The lights rapidly approached, but when the bearers came within forty yards they stopped.

They were a wild group, as, with their unkempt hair and beards, and their rough attire, they stood holding the lighted brands above their heads.