"I know them to be true men," said Griffith, "when needed, but--hark!
what says he?"
"Who goes there? what noise is that?" repeated the sentinel who was
placed at the entrance of the vault.
Manual and Griffith sprang at the same instant from their places of
rest, and stood, unwilling to create the slightest sounds, listening
with the most intense anxiety to catch the next indications of the cause
of their guardian's alarm. A short stillness, like that of death,
succeeded, during which Griffith whispered:
"'Tis the Pilot! his hour has been long passed."
The words were hardly spoken, when the clashing of steel in fierce and
sudden contact was heard, and at the next instant the body of the
sentinel fell heavily along the stone steps that led to the open air,
and rolled lifelessly to their feet, with the bayonet that had caused
his death projecting from a deep wound in his breast.
"Away, away! sleepers away!" shouted Griffith.
"To arms!" cried Manual in a voice of thunder.
The alarmed marines, suddenly aroused from their slumbers at these
thrilling cries, sprang on their feet in a confused cluster, and at that
fatal moment a body of living fire darted into the vault, which re-
echoed with the reports of twenty muskets. The uproar, the smoke, and
the groans which escaped from many of his party, could not restrain
Griffith another instant: his pistol was fired through the cloud which
concealed the entrance of the vault, and he followed the leaden
messenger, trailing a half-pike, and shouting to his men:
"Come on! follow, my lads; they are nothing but soldiers.
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