“I should think the best thing to do would be to break down the bridge of boats before beginning the attack,” Lieutenant Dillon remarked.

“Yes, that would be an excellent plan if it could be carried out, but none of our guns command it.”

“We might launch a boat with straw or combustibles from above,” Rupert said, “and burn it.”

“You may be very sure that they have got chains across the river above the bridge, to prevent any attempt of that kind,” Captain Lauriston said.

Presently the captain, who was on duty, went out for his rounds, and Rupert, who had been sitting thoughtfully, said, “Look here, Dillon, I am a good swimmer, and it seems to me that it would be easy enough to put two or three petards on a plank—­I noticed some wood on the bank above the town yesterday—­and to float down to the bridge, to fasten them to two or three of the boats, and so to break the bridge; your cousin in the engineers could manage to get us the petards.  What do you say?”

The young Irishman looked at the lad in astonishment.

“Are you talking seriously?” he asked.

“Certainly; why not?”

“They’d laugh in your face if you were to volunteer,” Dillon said.

“But I shouldn’t volunteer; I should just go and do it.”

“Yes, but after it was done, instead of getting praise—­that is, if you weren’t killed—­you’d be simply told you had no right to undertake such an affair.”

“But I should never say anything about it,” Rupert said.  “I should just do it because it would be a good thing to do, and would save the lives of some of our grenadiers, who will, likely enough, lead the assault.  Besides, it would be an adventure, like any other.”

Dillon looked at him for some time.

“You are a curious fellow, Holliday.  I would agree to join you in the matter, but I cannot swim a stroke.  Pat Dillon cares as little for his life as any man; and after all, there’s no more danger in it than in going out in a duel; and I could do that without thinking twice.”

“Well, I shall try it,” Rupert said quietly.  “Hugh can swim as well as I can, and I’ll take him.  But can you get me the petards?”

“I dare say I could manage that,” Dillon said, entering into the scheme with all an Irishman’s love of excitement.  “But don’t you think I could go too, though I can’t swim?  I could stick tight to the planks, you know.”

“No,” Rupert said seriously, “that would not do.  We may be detected, and may have to dive, and all sorts of things.  No, Dillon, it would not do.  But if you can get the petards, you will have the satisfaction of knowing that you have done your share of the work; and then you might, if you could, ride round in the evening with my uniform and Hugh’s in your valise.  If you go on to the bank half a mile or so below the town, every one will be watching the assault, and we can get ashore, put on our clothes, and get back home without a soul being the wiser.”