er to have escaped the violence of the men of war. Very
easily could we have left our horses, and betaken us into the deepest
parts of the bottomless shaking bogs, where no man could have followed
us. But the thought came not to us at the time. For God had so ordered
it, that Scotland was best to be served that day by the death of many of
His servants.

There were in our company twenty-three that had horses and forty that
had none. But we were all armed in some sort of fashion.

Now, this Richard Cameron had in him both the heart of a fighter and the
fearlessness of a man assured of his interest. He cried out to inquire
of us if we were firmly set in our minds to fight, and with one voice we
answered him, "Ay!" We were of one heart and one mind. Our company and
converse had been sweet in the darkness, and now we were set to die
together in the noonday, gladly as men that have made them ready for the
entering in of the bride-chamber.

So in that sullen morning, with the birds crying and the mist drawing
down into thunder-clouds, we rose to make our last stand. I had given up
all thought of escape, and was putting in hard steeks at the praying.
For the sins that were on my soul were many, and I had too recently
taken to that way of thinking to have the comfort and assurance of my
elders.

Now, the soldiers that came against us were the finest companies of
Airly's and Strachan's dragoons--gallant lads all--newly brought to that
country-side and not yet inured to the cruel riding and shooting, as
other companies were. I have not a word to say against the way they
fought, though as their duty was, they came against us with haste and
fury. Our quarrel was not with them, but with their master.

They rode gallantly enough this way and that through the morasses, and
came on bravely. Bruce of Earlshall was over them, but John Crichton was
their best fighter. A stark and cruel man he was, that would have hunted
us all down if he could. He fought that day with his blade swinging all
the time, damning and cursing between every blow. But, for all that, he
was sick and sorry ere he left this field. For if ever man did, he met
his match when he crossed swords with the Lion of the Covenant. It was
Rathillet who chose the place of strength for us to make our stand, and
as it seemed and mostly proved, to take our deaths upon. There was
little time for the Word and the Prayer. But, as was our custom, we sang
a cheerful psalm, and lift