and cried on to
us to charge in the name of the Lord, the first levin-bolt shot down,
glittering into the moor like a forked silver arrow. And over our head
the whole firmament raired and crashed.

"The Captain of our Salvation calls for us!" cried Cameron. "Who follows
after, when the Son of God rides forth to war!"

So with that we lowered our sword-points and drave at them. I think I
must have ridden with my eyes shut, down that little green knowe with
the short grass underfoot. I know that, even as we rode, the thunder
began to roar about us, girding us in a continuous ring of
lightning-flashes.

Yet, at the time, I seemed to ride through a world of empty silence,
even when I struck the red broil of battle. I could see Cameron crying
out and waving his sword before us as our horses gathered way, but I
remember no more till the shock came and we found ourselves threshing
headlong among them. I fired my pistols right and left, and set them in
my belt again, though the habit was to throw them away. I had my sword
dangling by a lingel or tag at my right wrist, for I had learned from
Wat Gordon how to fight it upon horseback when it came to the charge.
The first man that I came against was a great dragoon on a grey horse.
He shouted an oath of contempt, seeing me so slender and puny. Yet, for
all his bulk, I had him on the wrong side, so that he could not use his
sword-arm with advantage. And as I passed on my stout little nag, I got
my sword well home under his armpit and tumbled him off into the mire.

The stoutness of our charge took the enemy entirely by surprise. Indeed,
afterwards they gave us all the testimony of being brave, resolute men;
and, like soldiers and gentlemen as they were, they used them that were
taken very civilly. I could see Cameron before me smiting and slaying,
slaying and smiting, rising in his stirrup at every blow and calling on
his men. It was a wild, fierce time, all too short--a happy turmoil of
blows wherein I drank for the first time the heady delight of battle.
All over the wild moss of Ayr that great day the swords flickered like
lightning-flashes, and the lightnings darted like sword-blades. Oh, how
many quiet times would I not give for such another glorious wager of
battle!

Overhead all the universe roared as we fought, and I had no thought save
of the need to keep my point up--thrusting, parrying, and striking as
God gave me ability.

Right in the midst of the press there c