But he could not attack,
and Dundee would not, till his moment came. The darkness the other
feared would be all in his favour. A very short time he knew would be
enough to decide the issue of the battle. Should that issue be
favourable to King James, as he felt confident it would be, he had
determined that before the next morning dawned there should be no army
left to King William in the Highlands.
The sun set, and the moment he had chosen came. The Southrons saw
Dundee, who had now changed his scarlet coat for one of less conspicuous
colour, ride along the line, and as he passed each clan they saw plaids
and brogues flung off. They heard the shout with which the word to
advance was hailed; but the cheer they sent back did not carry with it
the conviction of victory. Lochiel turned to his Camerons with a smile.
"Courage!" he said, "the day is our own. I am the oldest commander in
this army; and I tell you that feeble noise is the cry of men who are
doomed to fall by our hands this night." Then the old warrior flung off
his shoes with the rest of them, and took his place at the head of his
men. Dundee rode to the front of his cavalry. The pipes sounded, and the
clans came down the hill.
They advanced slowly at first, without firing a shot, while Mackay's
right poured a hot volley into their ranks, and the leathern cannon
discharged their harmless thunder from the centre.
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