“I will remain here,” he said, “for the present.  Do one of you take your place in the belfry.  Tell Cameron to shout down to you what is passing behind, and do you run instantly down the stairs to tell me.”

The peasants advanced next time accompanied by a strong force of their armed comrades.  As before they came round from behind, intending to stack their barrels in the angle there.  As the bearers of the first two or three powder barrels came round the corner Cameron shouted the news, and the soldier below ran down to Malcolm, who fired his pistol into the train.  A broad flash of fire rose round the tower followed instantaneously by two heavy explosions.  There was silence for an instant, and then a chorus of shrieks and yells.

The powder barrels borne by the two first men had exploded, their heads having been knocked in previously to admit of their ignition.  Some thirty of the peasants were killed or terribly mutilated by the explosion, and the rest took to their heels in terror, leaving their wounded comrades on the ground.

The echoes of the explosion had scarce died away when a shout of terror broke from the main body of peasants, and Malcolm saw them flying in all directions.  An instant afterwards the ringing sound of the Swedish trumpets was heard, and a squadron of horse galloped down full speed.  The peasants attempted no resistance, but fled in all directions, hotly pursued by the Swedes, who broke up into small parties and followed the fugitives cross the country cutting down great numbers of them.  The Swedish leader at once rode up to the foot of the tower, where Malcolm had already sallied out.

“I am glad indeed I am in time, Captain Graheme; we have ridden without drawing rein since your messenger arrived at four o’clock this morning.”

“Thanks indeed, Captain Burgh,” Malcolm replied.  Your coming is most welcome; though I think we have given the peasants so hot a lesson that they would not have attacked us again, and by tightening our waistbelts we could have held on for another three or four days.”

“I see that you have punished them heavily,” the Swedish officer said, looking round at the bodies; “but what was the explosion I heard?”

“You will see its signs behind the tower,” Malcolm said as he led the way there.  “They tried to blow us up, but burnt their own fingers.”

The scene behind the tower was ghastly.  Some thirty peasants lay with their clothes completely burned from their bodies, the greater portion of them dead, but some still writhing in agony.  Malcolm uttered an exclamation of horror.

“It were a kindness to put these wretches out of their misery,” the Swede said, and dismounting he passed his sword through the bodies of the writhing men.  “You know I am in favour of carrying on the war as mercifully as may be,” he continued turning to Malcolm, “for we have talked the matter over before now; and God forbid that I should strike a fallen foe; but these poor wretches were beyond help, and it is true mercy to end their sufferings.”