Malcolm was the first to awake, and was vexed to find by a stream of light pouring down through the half open trapdoor above that it was broad day.

He roused the men, and the stoppings were at once removed from the loopholes.

The sun was already high, for the party, overpowered with fatigue, had slept long and soundly.
Malcolm looked cautiously from the window; no one was in sight, and the ruins of the village below lay black and deserted.

The men resumed the clothes which had been used for blocking the loopholes, and sat down to pass the long hours which would elapse before the time for action arrived.

It was exceedingly cold, for there were loopholes on each side of the chamber, and the wind blew keenly through.
"Sergeant," Malcolm said, "we will risk a bit of fire again, for the cold pierces to the bone; only be sure that you use perfectly dry wood.
Examine each piece to see that no drip from the roof has penetrated it.
If it is dry it will give but little smoke, and a slight vapour is not likely to be observed rising from the top of the tower." The fire was again lighted, and the smoke was so slight that Malcolm had little fear of its being observed.
An hour later, as the men were talking, Malcolm suddenly held up his hand for silence, and the murmur of voices was heard without.