At three o'clock in the morning the Austrian advanced guard was in motion. Chastelar and Hormayr harangued their troops, inciting them to ardour; and before the march had lasted a couple of hours, the thunder of distant guns and the tumultuous din of alarm-bells resounded through the valleys. Innumerable fires were discovered on the heights; and as Chastelar's division advanced up the Drauthal, thousands of men, women, and children came forth to meet it, waving green boughs, and pressing forwards to kiss the hands and even the feet of their deliverers. The force consisted, in all, of sixteen battalions of foot, and three squadrons of horse. Meanwhile, Hofer, at the head of five thousand strong, was crossing the Jauffen, to intercept the enemy between Brixen and the Brenner. On reaching the muster-ground, a succession of short, abrupt, hearty cheers had greeted him. He said little more than "Are we all ready, brothers? Then no time is to be lost;" but his look was as gay as a bridegroom's, and they started forth like guests hurrying to a wedding. Passing the little village of St. Leonard, they struck up to the old Castle of Jauffen; and then began to climb a steep and stony path resembling the dry bed of a torrent, being strewn with boulders; shaded here and there with walnuts and budding elders. Presently the path ran along a precipitous slope, high above the valley, and occasionally crossing chasms on most insecure-looking bridges of poles, carelessly laid across, that required Tyrolean nerves to tread in confidence. These men thought nothing whatever about it, unless the idea occurred how easily they could pull the loose poles after them if the enemy were behind. The last village on their ascent was Walten. Up to this point they had chatted and occasionally sung a verse or two of some patriotic song; but now they must husband their breath; there would not be another rood of level ground. Now pastures, now fir-woods, here and there a lonely cottage, but still ascending. They get beyond the straggling pines, to bare, thin turf, with the rock frequently forcing itself through it. Here and there are cool, bubbling springs, at which many slake their thirst. Poles, to guide the winter traveller, are next reached; then, a tall cross, in passing which each man reverently crosses himself. And now they are on the topmost ridge.