Almost holding his breath he listened as they approached, and his heart gave a throb of delight as he heard that they were speaking in Swedish.

A victory had been won, then, for had it not been so, it would have been the Imperialists, not the Swedes, who would have been searching the field of battle.
"There are but few alive," one voice said, "the cold has finished the work which the enemy began." Malcolm, unable to rise, lifted his arm and held it erect to call the attention of the searchers; it was quickly observed.
"There is some one still alive," the soldier exclaimed, "an officer, too; by his scarf and feathers he belongs to the Green Brigade." "These Scotchmen are as hard as iron," another voice said; "come, bring a stretcher along." They were soon by the side of Malcolm.
"Drink this, sir," one said, kneeling beside him and placing a flask of spirits to his lips; "that will warm your blood, I warrant, and you must be well nigh frozen." Malcolm took a few gulps at the potent liquor, then he had strength to say: "There is something the matter with my left arm, I can't move it, and I think I am hit in the body." "You are hit in the body, sure enough," the man said, "for there is a bullet hole through your cuirass, and your jerkin below it is all stained with blood.

You have been hit in the left arm too, and the blood is frozen to the ground; but we will soon free that for you.

But before trying to do that we will cut open the sleeve of your jerkin and bandage your arm, or the movement may set it off bleeding again, and you have lost a pool of blood already." Very carefully the soldiers did their work, and then placing Malcolm on the stretcher carried him away to the camp.

Here the surgeons were all hard at work attending to the wounded who were brought in.