The wife of this most irritable Teuton we found exactly in the plight Shirley had described, immured in a vault, a cold and miserable place, the sole furniture of which was a truckle-bed. We put the baron in her place, and sent her by her own request, to the Lutheran Convent at Marburg, while her rival was made to ride the _cheval de bois_ for an hour, with a carbine slung at each foot. While the baron's Westphalian wine and beer were freely brought from his cellar for the use of the troop; while he growled and swore in his vault, and while the bridge of the Lahn was being undermined, Colonel Preston desired me to take ten men with me, and ride a mile or two into the country on the other side of the river, to reconnoitre the district, to see or inquire about the disposition of the enemy, but to avoid all risk. "Come, Gauntlet," said Shirley, as I tightened my waistbelt and put my foot in the stirrup; "take a parting cup ere you go." "Excuse me, major," said I, coldly; "I have had wine already--and the hour is not yet noon." "Toast Miss Gauntlet, man--Zounds! here in Westphalia, so far away from Old England. To your fair cousin's health!" he exclaimed, holding out a silver-rimmed horn of wine. "To Aurora, then!" said I, and drained the wine, after clinking our horns together in true German fashion, while Shirley's usual smile expanded into a laugh, and when he laughed it always portended mischief. "Come, my lads," said I, to my chosen ten; "forward--trot!" "Don't ride too far, Gauntlet," cried Shirley, still laughing loudly, "for the bridge is quite undermined." "How that fool laughs at his own folly," thought I, as we crossed the antique bridge at a hard trot, and rode into the frozen country beyond. From the bank of the Lahn the ground sloped gradually upward for miles, though intersected here and there by thickly wooded ravines; thus, as we traversed the snow, when looking back we could distinctly see the old tower of Freyenthal, standing dark and grim with its smoky chimneys above the half-frozen river. The country seemed partially deserted, and any peasants or woodcutters who saw us, fled at our approach, and concealed themselves. We rode several miles, and by the wayside passed the ruins of many roofless cottages and deserted farms; but now Hob Elliot assured me that in the clear frosty air he "more than once had heard the rumble of wheels--perhaps of artillery." As we saw nothing even in the most distant portion of the level and snow-clad landscape, I ridiculed this notion; but Hob was obstinate, and stuck to his fears on the subject.