nded
a retreat; it was expressed in wailing notes, which seemed to imply a
dirge for the fallen. The two parties disengaged themselves from each
other, to take breath for a few minutes. The eyes of the spectators
greedily surveyed the shattered array of the combatants as they drew
off from the contest, but found it still impossible to decide which had
sustained the greater loss. It seemed as if the Clan Chattan had lost
rather fewer men than their antagonists; but in compensation, the bloody
plaids and skirts of their party (for several on both sides had thrown
their mantles away) showed more wounded men than the Clan Quhele. About
twenty of both sides lay on the field dead or dying; and arms and legs
lopped off, heads cleft to the chin, slashes deep through the shoulder
into the breast, showed at once the fury of the combat, the ghastly
character of the weapons used, and the fatal strength of the arms which
wielded them. The chief of the Clan Chattan had behaved himself with
the most determined courage, and was slightly wounded. Eachin also had
fought with spirit, surrounded by his bodyguard. His sword was bloody,
his bearing bold and warlike; and he smiled when old Torquil, folding
him in his arms, loaded him with praises and with blessings.

The two chiefs, after allowing their followers to breathe for the space
of about ten minutes, again drew up in their files, diminished by nearly
one third of their original number. They now chose their ground nearer
to the river than that on which they had formerly encountered, which
was encumbered with the wounded and the slain. Some of the former were
observed, from time to time, to raise themselves to gain a glimpse of
the field, and sink back, most of them to die from the effusion of blood
which poured from the terrific gashes inflicted by the claymore.

Harry Smith was easily distinguished by his Lowland habit, as well as
his remaining on the spot where they had first encountered, where he
stood leaning on a sword beside a corpse, whose bonneted head, carried
to ten yards' distance from the body by the force of the blow which had
swept it off, exhibited the oak leaf, the appropriate ornament of the
bodyguard of Eachin MacIan. Since he slew this man, Henry had not struck
a blow, but had contented himself with warding off many that were dealt
at himself, and some which were aimed at the chief. MacGillie Chattanach
became alarmed, when, having given the signal that his men shou