south gate.

Roldan closed his eyes for a half moment to relieve them of the strain,
then opened them and held his breath. Only the outer fringe of the
little army could now be seen; it was crawling close to the western
wall. In a few moments they were beneath Roldan; he could hear the
slight impact with the air. Then once more he strained his eyes until he
thought they would fly from his head, and his lungs seemed bursting.
They were approaching the west gate.

They passed it. There could be no doubt now that they purposed to attack
the north gate; but Roldan dared not ring until they were well away from
the west side, lest they change their plans and his signal mislead.

As they reached the corner of the wall they suddenly accelerated their
pace as if impatience mastered them. When the tail of the procession had
whisked about and Roldan saw a compact mass move like a black cloud
before the wind toward the north gate, he caught the rope in both hands
and jangled with all his might.

The great clapper hurled itself against the mighty sides of the bell
with a violence which split the nerves and made the ear-drums creak. The
blood surged to Roldan's head, carrying chaos with it. He had a confused
sense of a flood of light in the plaza below, but could hear no other
sound except the deafening uproar in his ears. Suddenly something gave
way beneath his feet. He had an awful feeling of disintegration, of
solid parting from solid in empty space. He kicked out wildly. His feet
touched nothing. Then his head suddenly cleared, although the deep tones
of the bell still seemed echoing there, and he became aware that his
descent had stopped, and that his hands, torn and aching, were still