n the
centre of the little body, followed by the unwarlike train of
servants, while two or three experienced cavaliers brought up the
rear, with strict orders to guard against surprise.

On their being put into motion, the first thing which surprised Arthur
was, that the horses' hoofs no longer sent forth the sharp and ringing
sound arising from the collision of iron and flint, and as the morning
light increased, he could perceive, that the fetlock and hoof of every
steed, his own included, had been carefully wrapped around with a
sufficient quantity of wool, to prevent the usual noise which
accompanied their motions. It was a singular thing to behold the
passage of the little body of cavalry down the rocky road which led
from the castle, unattended with the noise which we are disposed to
consider as inseparable from the motions of horse, the absence of
which seemed to give a peculiar and almost an unearthly appearance to
the cavalcade.

They passed in this manner the winding path which led from the castle
of Arnheim to the adjacent village, which, as was the ancient feudal
custom, lay so near the fortress, that its inhabitants, when summoned
by their lord, could instantly repair for its defence. But it was at
present occupied by very different inhabitants, the mutinous soldiers
of the Rhingrave. When the party from Arnheim approached the entrance
of the village, Schreckenwald made a signal to halt, which was
instantly obeyed by his followers. He then rode forward in person to
reconnoitre, accompanied by Arthur Philipson, both moving with the
utmost steadiness and precaution. The deepest silence prevailed in the
deserted streets. Here and there a soldier was seen, seemingly
designed for a sentinel, but uniformly fast asleep.

"The swinish mutineers!" said Schreckenwald; "a fair night-watch they
keep, and a beautiful morning's rouse would I treat them with, were
not the point to protect yonder peevish wench.--Halt thou here,
stranger, while I ride back and bring them on--there is no danger."

Schreckenwald left Arthur as he spoke, who, alone in the street of a
village filled with banditti, though they were lulled into temporary
insensibility, had no reason to consider his case as very comfortable.
The chorus of a wassel song, which some reveller was trolling over in
his sleep; or, in its turn, the growling of some village cur, seemed
the signal for an hundred ruffians to start up around him. But in the
space of two