ue
Ebro curving betwixt its double line or homesteads and of villages. The
fishers of Viana were aroused that night by rough voices speaking in a
strange tongue, and ere morning Sir Nigel and his men had ferried the
river and were safe upon the land of Spain.

All the next day they lay in a pine wood near to the town of Logrono,
resting their horses and taking counsel as to what they should do. Sir
Nigel had with him Sir William Felton, Sir Oliver Buttesthorn, stout old
Sir Simon Burley, the Scotch knight-errant, the Earl of Angus, and Sir
Richard Causton, all accounted among the bravest knights in the army,
together with sixty veteran men-at-arms, and three hundred and twenty
archers. Spies had been sent out in the morning, and returned after
nightfall to say that the King of Spain was encamped some fourteen miles
off in the direction of Burgos, having with him twenty thousand horse
and forty-five thousand foot.

A dry-wood fire had been lit, and round this the leaders crouched, the
glare beating upon their rugged faces, while the hardy archers lounged
and chatted amid the tethered horses, while they munched their scanty
provisions.

"For my part," said Sir Simon Burley, "I am of opinion that we have
already done that which we have come for. For do we not now know where
the king is, and how great a following he hath, which was the end of our
journey."

"True," answered Sir William Felton, "but I have come on this venture
because it is a long time since I have broken a spear in war, and,
certes, I shall not go back until I have run a course with some cavalier
of Spain. Let those go back who will, but I must see more of these
Spaniards ere I turn."

"I will not leave you, Sir William," returned Sir Simon Burley; "and
yet, as an old soldier and one who hath seen much of war, I cannot but
think that it is an ill thing for four hundred men to find themselves
between an army of sixty thousand on the one side and a broad river on
the other."

"Yet," said Sir Richard Causton, "we cannot for the honor of England go
back without a blow struck."

"Nor for the honor of Scotland either," cried the Earl of Angus. "By
Saint Andrew! I wish that I may never set eyes upon the water of
Leith again, if I pluck my horse's bridle ere I have seen this camp of
theirs."

"By Saint Paul! you have spoken very well," said Sir Nigel, "and I have
always heard that there were very worthy gentlemen among the Scots, and
fine skirmishing to