“No news of importance,” the colonel replied; “but the king is rather puzzled.  A prisoner was taken today —­one of Pappenheim’s horsemen —­ and he declares that a force of horse and foot have been defeated at Mansfeld by a Swedish army with heavy loss.  He avers that he was present at the affair, and arrived in camp with the rest of the beaten force only yesterday.  We cannot make it out, as we know that there are no Swedish troops anywhere in that direction.”

Malcolm burst into a hearty laugh, to the surprise of his fellow officers.

“I can explain the matter, colonel,” he said.  “It was my detachment that had the honour of representing the Swedish army at Mansfeld.”

“What on earth do you mean, Malcolm?” the colonel asked.

“Well, sir, as you know I went with a detachment to the village where I had before been well treated, and had earned the gratitude of the people by teaching them how to destroy a party of marauders.  After having been there for a month I was on the point of marching, for the men were all perfectly restored to health; and indeed I know I ought to have returned sooner, seeing that the men were fit for service; but as I thought you were still at Old Brandenburg, and could well dispense with our services, I lingered on to the last.  But just as I was about to march the news came that a party of Imperialist horse, three hundred strong, was about to attack Mansfeld, a place of whose existence I had never heard; but hearing that its count was a staunch Protestant, and that the inhabitants intended to make a stout defence, I thought that I could not be doing wrong in the service of the king by marching to aid them, the place being but twenty-four miles away across the hills.  We got there in time, and aided the townspeople to repulse the first assault.  After two days they brought up a reinforcement of four hundred infantry and some cannon.  As the place is a small one, with but about two hundred and fifty fighting men of all ages, we deemed it impossible to defend the town, and while they were breaching the walls fell back to the castle.  The Imperialists occupied it at sunset, and at night, leaving a party to hold the castle, we sallied out from the other side, and marching round, entered by the breaches, and, raising the Swedish war cry fell upon the enemy, who were for the most part too drunk to offer any serious resistance.  We killed two hundred and fifty of them, and the rest fled in terror, thinking they had the whole Swedish army upon them.  The next day I started on my march back here, and though we have not spared speed, it seems that the Imperialists have arrived before us.”

A burst of laughter and applause greeted the solution of the mystery.

“You have done well, sir,” Munro said cordially, “and have rendered a great service not only in the defeat of the Imperialists, but in its consequences here, for the prisoner said that last night five thousand men were marched away from Tilly’s army to observe and make head against this supposed Swedish force advancing from the east.  When I have done my meal I will go over to the king with the news, for his majesty is greatly puzzled, especially as the prisoner declared that he himself had seen the Scots of the Green Brigade in the van of the column, and had heard the war cry, ’A Hepburn!  A Hepburn!’