"I should say," another said, "that we had best make him our cook.
Old Rollo is always grumbling at being kept at the work, and his
cooking gets worse and worse. I could not get my jaws into the meat
this morning."

A murmur of agreement was raised by the other horsemen.

"So be it," the leader said. "Dost hear, lad? You have the choice
whether you will be cook to a band of honourable gentlemen or be
shot at once."

"The choice pleases me not," Malcolm replied. "Still, if it must
needs be, I would prefer for a time the post of cook to the other
alternative."

"And mind you," the leader said sharply, "at the first attempt to
escape we string you up to the nearest bough. Carl, do you lead
him back and set him to work, and tell the men there to keep a
sharp watch upon him."

One of the men turned his horse, and, with Malcolm walking by his
side, left the party. They soon turned aside from the road, and after
a ride of five miles across a rough and broken country entered a
wood. Another half mile and they reached the foot of an eminence,
on the summit of which stood a ruined castle. Several horses were
picketed among the trees at the foot of the hill, and two men were
sitting near them cleaning their arms. The sight of these deterred
Malcolm from carrying into execution the plan which he had formed
-- namely, to strike down his guard with his club as he dismounted,
to leap on his horse, and ride off.