“Hopeless or not,” Malcolm said, “I will undertake it, and will at once put the men under arms.  The wagon and horses with the baggage I will leave here till I return, that is if we should ever come back again.”

A tap of the drum and the soldiers came running in hastily from various cottages where they were spending their last evening with their village friends, wondering at the sudden summons to arms.  As soon as they had fallen in, Malcolm joined them.

“Men,” he said, “I am sorry to disturb you on your last evening here, but there is business on hand.  A party of Pappenheim’s dragoons are about to attack the town of Mansfeld, where the people are of the Reformed Religion.  The siege will begin in the morning, and ere that time we must be there.  We have all got fat and lazy, and a little fighting will do us good.”

The thought of a coming fray reconciled the men to their departure from their quiet and happy resting place.  Armour was donned, buckles fastened, and arms inspected, and in half an hour, after a cordial adieu from their kind hosts, the detachment marched off, their guide with a lighted torch leading the way.  The men were in light marching order, having left everything superfluous behind them in the wagon; and they marched briskly along over hill and through forest without a halt, till at three o’clock in the morning the little town of Mansfeld, with its castle rising above it, was visible before them in the first light of morning.

As they approached the walls a musketoon was fired, and the alarm bell of the church instantly rang out.  Soon armed men made their appearance on the walls.  Fearing that the burghers might fire before waiting to ascertain who were the newcomers, Malcolm halted his band, and advanced alone towards the walls.

“Who are you who come in arms to the peaceful town of Mansfeld?” an officer asked from the wall.

“I am an officer of his Swedish Majesty, Gustavus, and hearing that the town was threatened with attack by the Imperialists, I have marched hither with my detachment to aid in the defence.”

A loud cheer broke from the walls.  Not only was the reinforcement a most welcome one, small as it was, for the valour of the Scottish soldiers of the King of Sweden was at that time the talk of all Germany, but the fact that a detachment of these redoubted troops had arrived seemed a proof that the main army of the Swedish king could not be far away.  The gates were at once opened, and Malcolm with his band marched into Mansfield.

CHAPTER VIII THE SIEGE OF MANSFELD

“Will it please your worship at once to repair to the castle?” the leader of the townspeople said.  “The count has just sent down to inquire into the reason of the alarm.”

“Yes,” Malcolm replied, “I will go at once.  In the meantime, sir, I pray you to see to the wants of my soldiers, who have taken a long night march and will be none the worse for some refreshment.  Hast seen aught of the Imperialists?”