"But it's richt ye should tak' your fill o' what ye can see! I'm for doon the stair," he added.
Nigel made a movement to intercept him. He waved his glove in friendly deprecation.
"Hoots aye! I'll wait for you at the foot! Ye'll be perverse enough to be wishing to carry me back to breakfast in Tilly's camp. And I've made up my mind to tak' ye back with me to sup our brose! I'll wait! Never fear!"
With which he went quietly and unhurried down the stair—and Nigel took a long look from his hatch. Very dimly he descried something in movement along the road from Donauwerth, and on the wings of the morning air came the sound of a solitary trumpet. Gustavus was advancing, and it behoved Nigel to get back to the camp. He descended the stair, and found the enemy standing, stamping his feet in the roadway.
"Now, sir! where's your horse? Mine's here. I've no wish to carry you, or you me, and there's no need to hack the puir beasties, so if it's all the same to you we'll fight on foot!"
"It's all the same to me," said Nigel, throwing off his cloak. "My horse is in the barn yonder."
"Good!" said the other. "Swords is it? And the first man to be disabled is the other's prisoner! Are these the conditions of the combat?"
Nigel saluted. "My name and condition is,—Nigel Charteris of Pencaitland—Major-General—commanding a brigade under Count Tilly."
"And mine is Sir John Hepburn, Captain-General of the Scots Brigade, serving with Gustavus Adolphus. It is a rare pity we should meet so. I kent your father lang syne. Even now I am willing to go my ways and allow you to do the same."