ound fault with him for his leniency after Bothwell.
We can well believe it; for in a letter which he had previously sent to
the council Charles wrote that it was "his royal will and pleasure that
they should prosecute the rebels with fire and sword, and all other
extremities of war." Speaking at another time to Monmouth about his
conduct, Charles said, "If I had been present there should have been no
trouble about prisoners." To which Monmouth replied, "If that was your
wish, you should not have sent me but a _butcher_!"

In the general flight Black, owing to his lame leg, stumbled over a
bank, pitched on his head, and lay stunned. Quentin Dick, stooping to
succour him, was knocked down from behind, and both were captured.
Fortunately Monmouth chanced to be near them at the time and prevented
their being slaughtered on the spot, like so many of their countrymen,
of whom it is estimated that upwards of four hundred were slain in the
pursuit that succeeded the fight--many of them being men of the
neighbourhood, who had not been present on the actual field of battle at
all. Among others Wallace's uncle, David Spence, was killed. Twelve
hundred, it is said, laid down their arms and surrendered at discretion.

Wallace himself, seeing that the day was lost and further resistance
useless, and having been separated from his friends in the general
_melee_, sought refuge in a clump of alders on the banks of the river.
Another fugitive made for the same spot about the same time. He was an
old man, yet vigorous, and ran well; but the soldiers who pursued soon
came up and knocked him down. Having already received several dangerous
wounds in the head, the old man seemed to feel that he had reached the
end of his career on earth, and calmly prepared for death. But the end
had not yet come. Even among the blood-stained troops of the King there
were men whose hearts were not made of flint, and who, doubtless,
disapproved of the cruel work in which it was their duty to take part.
Instead of giving the old man the _coup de grace_, one of the soldiers
asked his name.

"Donald Cargill," answered the wounded man.

"That name sounds familiar," said the soldier. "Are not you a
minister?"

"Yea, I have the honour to be one of the Lord's servants."

Upon hearing this the soldiers let him go, and bade him get off the
field as fast as possible.

Cargill was not slow to obey, and soon reached the alders, where he fell
almost fain