Philip and his cousin ran up.
"There is the beacon alight at the hut, count," the lookout said.
"Light this bonfire then, Jules, and keep the alarm bell going.
"To horse, men!" he cried, looking over the parapet.

"Bring out our horses with your own." The men had been previously told off in twos and threes to the various farmhouses, to aid in driving in the cattle and, as soon as they were mounted, each party dashed off to its destination.

From the watchtower four or five fires could be seen blazing in the distance, showing that the lookouts had everywhere been vigilant, and that the news had already been carried far and wide.
Francois and Philip rode up to the hut on the hill.
"There is no mistake, I hope," Francois said as, a quarter of a mile before they reached it, they met the three men-at-arms coming down.
"No, count, it was exactly in a line with the two stakes and, I should think, about the distance away that you told us the tower was.

It has died down now." The beacon fire near the hut had been placed fifty yards below the crest of the hill, so that its flame should not be seen from the other side.

This had been at Philip's suggestion.
"If it is put where they can see it," he said, "they will feel sure that it is in answer to that fire behind them, and will ride at full speed, so as to get here before the news spreads.