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.