The chain of sentinels were posted along the sedgy banks of the river, and on a green grassy knoll beside it, amid groves where the yellow orange and clustering grape were ripening in the sun, sat Ronald and the officer commanding the picquet, Captain Stuart of the 50th regiment, discussing the flasks of _Xeres seco_. While they were conversing on the probable issue of the intended attack on the castle of Miravete and the French forts at Almarez, a sentry by the riverside passed the word of alarm, that some of the enemy were in motion on the other side of the stream. Far down the Almonte, advancing over the level ground from the direction of the Madrid road, appeared four figures on foot, and the glitter of polished metal showed that they were armed men. "Mr. Stuart," said the captain of the picquet, "take with you a file of men and a bugler, and see who these may be. You may cross here,—I suppose the river is fordable. Should you see any thing suspicious further off, let the bugle-boy sound, to warn us." "This promises to be an adventure," said Ronald, fixing his sword in his belt, and preparing to start. "A flag of truce, probably, sent from the castle of Miravete." "Most likely: they have come from that direction. Sir Rowland will be ill pleased to think the enemy know of his vicinity. But as these communications are generally only for the purpose of reconnoitring and gaining intelligence, you must be careful to frustrate any such intentions by answering reservedly all questions, and beware that their cunning does not out-flank your caution." "Fear not: man to man, if they—" "Nay: should it be a flag of truce, you must receive it with all attention and courtesy; but you had better move off, and meet them as far from here as possible." "There are two stout fellows of my own company here; I will take them with me. Ewen Macpherson Mackie, unpile your arms, and follow me. Look sharp, there, men!" Accompanied by two sturdy Highlanders, and a bugler of the 50th foot, he crossed the Almonte, which took them up to the waist, and scrambling over the opposite bank, advanced towards the strangers without feeling much discomfort from the wetting,—fording a river being with them a daily occurrence.