Four other men, bound hand and foot, lay close to the fire. By its
flames Malcolm saw the green scarves that told they were Scotchmen
of his own brigade, and he determined at once to rescue them or
die in the attempt. He crept forward until he reached the edge of
the road; then he raised a pistol and with a steady aim fired at
one of the natives, who fell dead across the fire.
Another shot laid another beside him before the peasants recovered
from their first surprise. Then with a loud shout in German, "Kill
-- kill! and spare none!" Malcolm dashed forward. The peasants,
believing that they were attacked by a strong body, fled precipitately
in all directions. Malcolm, on reaching the prisoners, instantly
severed their bonds.
"Quick, my lads!" he exclaimed; "we shall have them upon us again
in a minute."
The men in vain tried to struggle to their feet -- their limbs were
too numbed to bear them.
"Crawl to the nearest cottage!" Malcolm exclaimed; "we can hold it
until your limbs are recovered."
He caught up from the ground some pikes and scythes which the
peasants had dropped in their flight, and aided the men to make
their way to the nearest cottage. They were but just in time; for
the peasants, finding they were not pursued, had looked round, and
seeing but one opponent had gained courage and were beginning to
approach again.
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