ined the firm plain, which had lately borne
a large crop of corn. But the harvest was gathered in, and the expanse
was unbroken by tree, bush, or interruption of any kind. The rest of the
army were following fast, when they heard the drums of the enemy beat the
general. Surprise, however, had made no part of their plan, so they were
not disconcerted by this intimation that the foe was upon his guard and
prepared to receive them. It only hastened their dispositions for the
combat, which were very simple.

The Highland army, which now occupied the eastern end of the wide plain,
or stubble field, so often referred to, was drawn up in two lines,
extending from the morass towards the sea. The first was destined to
charge the enemy, the second to act as a reserve. The few horse, whom the
Prince headed in person, remained between the two lines. The adventurer
had intimated a resolution to charge in person at the head of his first
line; but his purpose was deprecated by all around him, and he was with
difficulty induced to abandon it.

Both lines were now moving forward, the first prepared for instant
combat. The clans of which it was composed formed each a sort of separate
phalanx, narrow in front, and in depth ten, twelve, or fifteen files,
according to the strength of the following. The best-armed and best-born,
for the words were synonymous, were placed in front of each of these
irregular subdivisions. The others in the rear shouldered forward the
front, and by their pressure added both physical impulse and additional
ardour and confidence to those who were first to encounter the danger.

'Down with your plaid, Waverley,' cried Fergus, throwing off his own;
'we'll win silks for our tartans before the sun is above the sea.'

The clansmen on every side stript their plaids, prepared their arms, and
there was an awful pause of about three minutes, during which the men,
pulling off their bonnets, raised their faces to heaven and uttered a
short prayer; then pulled their bonnets over their brows and began to
move forward, at first slowly. Waverley felt his heart at that moment
throb as it would have burst from his bosom. It was not fear, it was not
ardour: it was a compound of both, a new and deeply energetic impulse
that with its first emotion chilled and astounded, then fevered and
maddened his mind. The sounds around him combined to exalt his
enthusiasm; the pipes played, and the clans rushed forward, each in its
own dark c