eadly. Their guns, charged with
cartouch, flung death wholesale across the ravine at us and decimated our
ranks. The grape-shot swept through us like a hail-storm. Galled beyond
endurance by the fire of the enemy, the clans clamoured to be led forward
in the charge. Presently through the lifting smoke we saw the devoted
Mackintoshes rushing forward against the cannon. After them came the
Maclaughlans and the Macleans to their left, and a moment later the whole
Highland line was in motion with the exception of the Macdonalds, who
hewed the turf with their swords in a despairing rage but would neither
fight nor fly. Their chief, brave Keppoch, stung to the quick, advanced
almost alone, courting death rather than to survive the day's disgrace.
Captain Donald Roy followed at his heels, imploring his chieftain not to
sacrifice himself, but Keppoch bade him save himself. For him, he would
never see the sunrise again. Next moment he fell to the ground from a
musket-shot, never to speak more. My last glimpse of Captain Roy was to
see him carrying back the body of his chief.

I rode back at a gallop along the ridge to my troop. The valley below was
a shambles. The English cannon tore great gaps in the ranks of the
advancing Highlanders. The incessant fire of the infantry raked them. From
the left wing Major Wolfe's regiment poured an unceasing flank fire of
musketry. The Highlanders fell in platoons. Still they swept forward
headlong. They reached the first line of the enemy. 'Twas claymore against
bayonet. Another minute, and the Highlanders had trampled down the
regulars and were pushing on in impetuous gallantry. The thin tartan line
clambering up the opposite side of the ravine grew thinner as the
grape-shot carried havoc to their ranks. Cobham's and Kerr's dragoons
flanked them _en potence_. To stand that hell of fire was more than mortal
men could endure. Scarce a dozen clansmen reached the second line of
regulars. The rest turned and cut their way, sword in hand, through the
flanking regiments which had formed on the ground over which they had just
passed with the intention of barring the retreat.

Our life-guards and the French pickets, together with Ogilvy's regiment,
checked in some measure the pursuit, but nothing could be done to save the
day. All was irretrievably lost, though the Prince galloped over the field
attempting a rally. The retreat became a rout, and the rout a panic. As
far as Inverness the ground was st