CHAPTER XXXIII.

THE HUNTER'S COT.

I had lost the path, and knew not which way to turn; yet the necessity for action made me walk hastily forward in the line which seemed parallel with the road I wished to pursue; but on becoming confused among the trees and thickets of large bushes, I lost the way irretrievably, and stumbled on through the wood, deprived of the waning moonlight, and even that of the stars, while having, moreover, to fear the wild animals, and other denizens of a more dangerous character, who usually haunt the German forests.

After pursuing a narrow path for nearly half an hour, I came to an open space where the trees had been cleared away, and in the centre of which stood a hut of the most rustic description.

Four trees, yet rooted, formed its four corners; the walls were of spars with the bark on; the roof was composed of planks covered by bark and moss, with large stones placed at intervals to keep down the eaves, and make the whole erection steady; while above the little doorway, which was almost buried under a mountain of sweet honeysuckle and wild-roses, a deer's skull and antlers were elevated on a large pole, and served to inform me that it was the dwelling of a huntsman.

After some hesitation I knocked, and though the hour was unusually late, or rather early, the door was opened almost at the first summons, for a huntsman is as easily roused as a soldier. Before me stood a man half dressed, blowing the match of his carbine, and viewing me narrowly from head to foot.

"Your business, Mein Herr?" he asked, with surprise.

"I have lost my way, and will reward----"

"Handsomely?"

"Ay, _handsomely_, any one who will be so kind as be my guide," I added, surprised at Lis parenthetical remark; "will you do so?"

"That depends upon which way yours may be," replied the fellow gruffly, lowering his carbine.

"My way is the road to Bergedorf."

"Are you sure it is not Bredenburg? there were some of your countrymen in garrison there yesterday."

"Nay, Bergedorf, I tell you!" said I, becoming impatient at the fellow's incivility.

"You are nearly four miles from the direct road, and could never find it alone; but if you would choose to pass the night, or rather I should say the remainder of the morning, with me, I will gladly set you on the right road for a draught of beer at the first tavern."

"That would not be a very handsome reward," said I, entering; "so, you are not an Imperialist, then?"

"I am nothing but the humble servant of Mein Herr, and, being under the authority of Duke Rodolph Maximillian, care not a jot either for the King of Denmark or the Emperor Ferdinand."

"But your lord serves under the banner of Austria."

"I have no lord," replied the hunter gruffly, as he shut the door with a bang that shook the cottage; "I am an enemy to all lords--I am a free forester, and own no master. Der teufel! what between the taxes of the Duke, the knights of Ertemberg, who would hang us for shooting the deer, and the bishops of Anhalt and Bremen, who would burn us because we will not go to mass, life is not worth having save in the woods, where one is free."

The interior of the hut was as rude as its exterior had promised. In a small chimney built of rough stones a fire was smouldering; on the plain wooden table, something like a cold supper of meat and bread, with beer, in one of those large glazed bowls which come from Muscovy, was standing, as if awaiting a belated visitor; and by the smoky oil lamp that hung from a rafter of the roof, and shed a light over the rudely constructed and humble edifice, I could perceive that, under his bushy eyebrows, my host scanned me frequently in a scrutinizing manner, which, to say the least of it, was very unpleasant.

His bearing and expression were by turns full of oily civility and sullenness; his figure was strong and athletic--short, and somewhat bow-legged; his head and face were large, and the latter had a very unprepossessing cast of features; the nose of a hawk, wide cracked lips of a livid colour, teeth like fangs, but coated with tartar; a low brow overshadowed by a forest of hair, and ears partly shorn off--in their mutilation announcing most satisfactorily the reason of his aversion to the bishops, knights, and lords of the district. In short, he was hideous.

"I fear I have disturbed you, my friend," said I.

"Not in the least--make no apologies, I pray you. All night I have been waiting for a friend who is journeying from Bredenburg to the castle of Lauenburg. Here is his supper, of which you may partake if you choose, and then pass the remainder of the morning on these deer-skins, or in that poor bed in the little room within."

"Many thanks, woodman," said I; "though not much used to luxuries of late, I shall be but too happy to accept of your little bed."

"The Herr may please himself," he muttered gruffly.

"At what hour of the morning do you usually set forth?"

"In these woods all hours are alike, Mein Herr--say, six."

"But, I have not a horologue, and how shall we know?"

"When the sun shines between the forked branches of a tree opposite, I know at this season the hour of six."

"I have five hours to sleep, then--fail not to waken me, and when we pass the boundary of the Hamburg territory, I will give you all I can afford at present--ten rixdollars!"

"'Tis a bargain--I will not fail," he replied, as a deep gleam shot over his sullen eyes, and he ushered me into a little room, where, setting down the light, he left me. The bed was little better than a palliase, filled with dry rushes or straw, spread upon a sparred frame; but to me, who had slept so often on the bare ground in my belted plaid, and when hunting had slumbered on the winter moors till my locks were frozen to the whitened heather, even that palliase was a luxury; and after laying against the door a few large billets of wood, to prevent ingress without my knowledge, I was about to extinguish the light, when several stains of blood upon the floor--blood recently spilt, arrested me; but the quarters of a deer which hung in a corner seemed sufficiently to account for them.

I blew out the lamp, and threw myself upon the truckle-bed to sleep.

Familiarity with danger certainly deadens at times the keener sense of it; and now, when reflecting upon the adventures of that morning, I can perceive that my position was full of perils, which sufficiently indicated themselves. Far from my comrades, close to the Imperialists, solitary and alone, I had entrusted myself to a foreign outlaw, a man of whom I knew nothing, save that his ears had been shorn off by a common executioner--the half savage denizen of a German forest, who in my sleep might slay me for the value of my jewelled brooch or gilded corslet.

The small aperture, which in the daytime lighted the inner room of this little log-hut, overlooked the dense obscurity of the forest, and was securely fastened by a crossbar of oak. Retreat that way was impossible, even had I thought of looking for it; but that idea never occurred to me, for suspicions scarcely suggested themselves. Thus, I lay placidly down to sleep, and the monotonous rustle of the forest leaves, and creaking of the laden branches, soon nursed me into the land of dreams.

I had slept about two hours, when one of those convulsive starts, which come so unaccountably in one's sleep, awoke me to all my energies. I heard a noise in the outer apartment, and through the roughly boarded partition saw a light shining into the darkness around me. The sound of hoofs were heard, and several men dismounted at the door of the hut.

I sprang up, and, placing my eye to the partition, beheld through the aperture Bandolo, the spy, enter, accompanied by three soldiers of the regiment of Merodé, who immediately attacked the platter of victuals, and drained by alternate draughts the wooden bowl of beer.

I gave myself up for lost!

"Well, Bernhard, my jovial _schwindler_, here we are at last!" said Bandolo, adding with a mighty oath, "and a rough ride I have had of it from Bredenburg. (Give me a glass of strong water.) I have just left Dunbar, the Scottish major, there. He will not surrender, he swears, while he has breath to draw; and begs King Christian to relieve or reinforce him, as the post must fall (some beef, Bernhard), and as the respectable Hausmeister, Otto Roskilde, I bear his urgent letter to----"

"To the Danish king?"

"No, to Count Tilly!" said Bandolo, with a loud oath and a hoarse laugh; "the old Scot may wait long enough for succour. If I could respect any quality but wealth, I should certainly respect his valour. He gave me six doubloons to carry this letter to King Christian!"

"Six doubloons!" muttered the Merodeurs, whose eyes sparkled at the idea of such a sum being in the pockets of a man who was within arm's length of them.

"When I give it to Tilly," said Bandolo, speaking with his mouth full, "he will pay me six doubloons more--happy dog! Maldicion de Dios! I shall retire from business some of these days, and buy me a count's patent in the Electorate of Hanover. The avenues will all be blocked up to-morrow night, and the poor old fool of a Scot, who trusts to me as the king's messenger, will be deceived by me, as Count Tilly's friend."

"Friend!" reiterated the Merodeurs with a roar of laughter.

"Then the Scot will be taken," said Bernhard.

"Nay," said a soldier of Merodé; "he may be taken dead, but never alive. I am one of Tilly's old grumblers, and have met with this ironheaded Scot before. He will never surrender--but I remember me, Bandolo, he was too free in giving thee wine at Bredenburg."

"Ah! when I said that Tilly was retreating towards the Weser--Rollo, Bernhard, another cup of the strong water!" Bandolo swore in German and Spanish alternately, though he was disguised again in a brown hat, a black cloak, and false paunch, like the well-fed Holsteiner, our old Hausmeister at Glückstadt. "Drink, Bernhard, drink!--to the amiable and generous Count Tilly, who hath the face of a rat, with the heart of a tiger! Drink to the eternal perdition of all Protestants, my merry Merodeurs, and to the continuance of this glorious war, which pours the doubloons into the pockets of Bandolo, who will erelong give you all a right welcome to his county in Hanover! Drink, drink--or, maldetto! I will dash my glass in the face of the first who refuses!"

"Hush!" said the forester, with a prolonged whisper, laying a hand upon his mouth, and pointing towards the little chamber I occupied.

"Hush--why? is there any one there who knows me?"

"No."

"I am glad of it--for I am becoming such a well-known rascal; but have you women, there? if so, you must lend me another ruff, for mine was torn to rags overnight."

(My heart beat quicker! I remembered the story of the village girl's death, and that her clenched hand retained the fragment of a man's ruff or collar--and now I saw that Bandolo's broad lace one, of point d'Espagne, was nearly all torn away. This ruffian--this bravo--the assassin of poor Dreghorn--this man of a hundred murders--had just added another item to his frightful list of atrocities!)

I was pondering whether or not his false paunch was pistol proof, while my host whispered something rapidly in his ear. The wretch set down his glass, and grew red and white by turns.

"'Tis he--'tis my man!" said he in a low thick voice, as he arose and flung aside his cloak.

"Who--who?" asked the Merodeurs.

"A prisoner who has escaped from Tilly's quarter-guard--a scurvy Scottish musketeer. He knows me, Bernhard, and has recognised me frequently. Thus, if once he reaches the Danish lines or garrisons, I can never act the spy and befriend the Count Tilly again; for I tell you all he has discovered me--and must die! For Vida del Demonio! I have killed many a better man before this, and shall I," he added, with a satanic smile on his fierce Spanish mouth, "shall I leave in my path this adder, whom I can crush with so little danger--here in Bernhard's hut--far from help or succour? Has he pistols?"

"No--nor dagger; for of course I looked well," replied the forester in the same low voice.

"We have pistols and daggers," said Bandolo, as he and the three Merodeurs unsheathed their long poniards, and examined the edges and points of the keen broad blades, which gleamed in the lurid light of the smoky lamp. Its rays fell on the dogged visage of the forester, on the bloated and ferocious features of the Merodeurs, browned by exposure, fringed by black beards, and seamed with the scars of battle and brawl; and on the face of Bandolo, whose eyes gleamed with cruelty, and whose lips were compressed with determination.

It is impossible for me to describe my emotions during this conversation, every word of which I had heard with a painful distinctness, which has impressed it upon my memory. I was single-handed against five! Resistance, though it might revenge, could never save me. The window was a fixture; the door I had not the means of barricading; and the roof of bark and planks, against which I thrust with all my strength, was too solid for a single hand to move. My goatskin Highland purse, the gift of Ian, with its four concealed pistol-barrels (though each of them was not bigger than a man's middle finger), could alone save me--and the ruffians thought I was without pistols.

I seized the clasp of this priceless sporran. I pulled the spring, cocked the secret locks, and placed my skene-dhu between my teeth. Then, while these five men, intent on wanton murder, were in the very act of examining their weapons, I softly opened the door, and, by a single turn of my hand, fired the contents of four barrels right amongst them, and then with sword and skene in hand, dashed through in the smoke, and gained the outer door.

It was all the work of a moment!

Two Merodeurs had fallen wounded, and so completely were the third, Bandolo and the forester, taken by surprise, that I had time to give the spy a back-handed blow, which broke his right arm, and thereafter reach their horses, which the Merodeurs had stolen, and which were fortunately standing close by, with their bridles thrown over the broken branch of a tree.

Though kilted, and in no way prepared for riding, I sprang across the saddle of the first nag that came to my hand, and, dashing at random along the forest road, was soon far from the hunter's cot--that almost fatal trap in which I had so witlessly enclosed myself.

Thus, between the sunset and sunrise, I had thrice narrowly escaped death.

Avoiding by something like a miracle the vast forces of Tilly, who were then moving on to capture Bredenburg, I reached Hamburg in safety. Long before this I had let loose the Merodeur's horse; for, being aware that it was stolen, I feared suspicion or discovery if found with it in my possession.

Thus, I could not overtake Major Wilson's party, as they were a full day's march before me on the Glückstadt road.

Though anxious to reinforce the gallant Dunbar of Dyke at Bredenburg, their honour was pledged to refrain from hostilities until they had reached the place mentioned in their capitulation, and thus the poor sergeant-major was left with only four hundred of our Highlanders to contend with a column of the Imperialists, ten thousand strong.

This column was led by Tilly in person, and it invested on all sides the town and castle of Bredenburg, the principal stronghold of the Counts of Rantzau, a noble and warlike family of Holstein. I heard the cannonading on my right hand, while proceeding on my solitary way; but I only learned the frightful slaughter when I rejoined the regiment.

Whether owing to Bandolo's treachery, or that King Christian remembered our quarrel about the Scottish and Danish crosses, and omitted wilfully to send succour, I knew not; but succour never came, and Dunbar refused all terms, vowing that "the Scots, who never feared the Romans--nathless what that liar Hegisippus said--would never surrender to Germans or Spaniards, while they had breath to draw!" and this answer will be found in the _Amsterdam Courant_.

The place was stormed on all sides; and old Dunbar, who maintained the breach for nearly an hour with his two-handed sword, was killed by a musket-shot, and every one of his brave Scots was put to the sword, save Ensign William Lumsdaine, who escaped by swimming the wet graff.

Before Captains Carmichael and Duncan Forbes, with the last of the four hundred, were slain, nearly a thousand of the Imperial dead were piled up within the slimy fosse.

Our Highlanders all died like good soldiers and true; for, of the four companies who perished there, three were composed of the very flower of the great Clan Chattan.*

* The Imperialists on this occasion shamefully mutilated the body of Dunbar. "They ripped up his breast," according to Colonel Munro; "tooke out his heart, sundered his gummes, and stuck his heart in his mouth; they also killed our preacher, who, being on his knees begging life, was denied mercy."