"You are very inquisitive," said I, laughing; "about nine thousand."
"All Scots?"
"All—Murkle's, Spynie's, and Nithsdale's regiments—each being a brigade."
"And of the English, how many?"
"We know nothing about the English," replied M'Alpine, imbibing somewhat of my distrust at these categorical queries; "nothing save that, when we sailed, Scotland expected a war with them about this new court called the Commission for Grievances, which King Charles is about to thrust upon us, and we consider to be only that devilish Star-chamber under another name."
"Then, are there no English coming?"
"One regiment of pikes," I replied briefly, "for they generally prefer the service of the Prince of Orange; but why are you so anxious for all this information, Herr Otto?"
The blood rushed into his sallow face, and he stammered—
"Is it strange that I, a Holsteiner, should be anxious to learn the number of our friends?"
"Oh! 'tis quite natural," said I, feeling the justice of his reply; "but now, Herr, since I have answered all your questions, will you please to answer a few of mine?"