Clavers, to wipe off the disgrace of Drumclog, was committing dreadful havoc. ‘Can we not find Clavers,’ said Halhead, ‘no,’ said Captain Paton, ‘the gallant Colonel takes care to have a solid guard of his rogues about him. I have sought him over the field; but I found him, as I now perceive him, with a mass of his guards about him.’ At this instant we saw our General, at some distance, disentangling himself from the men who had tumbled over him in the _mêlée_. His face, his hands, and clothes, were covered with gore. He had been dismounted, and was fighting on foot. We rushed to the spot, and cheered him. Our party drove back the scattered bands of Dalzell. ‘My friends’ said Sir Robert, as we mounted him on a stray horse, ‘the day is lost! But--you Paton; you Brownlee of Torfoot, and you Halhead; let not that flag fall into the hands of these incarnate devils. We have lost the battle, but by the grace of God, neither Dalzell, nor Clavers shall say that he took our colours. My ensign has done his duty. He is down. This sword has saved it twice. I leave it to your care. You see its perilous situation.’ He pointed with his sword to the spot.--We collected some of our scattered troops, and flew to the place. The standard bearer was down, but he was borne upright by the mass of men who had thrown themselves in fierce contest around it. Its well known blue and scarlet colours, and its motto, ‘CHRIST’S CROWN AND COVENANT,’ in brilliant gold letters, inspired us with a sacred enthusiasm. We gave a loud cheer to the wounded ensign, and rushed into the combat. The redemption of that flag cost the foe many a gallant man. They fell beneath our broad swords; and, with horrible execrations dying on their lips, they gave up their souls to their Judge. Here I met in front that ferocious dragoon of Clavers, named Tam Halliday, who had more than once, in his raids, plundered my halls; and had snatched the bread from my weeping babes. He had just seized the white staff of the flag. But his tremenduous oath of exultation, (we of the covenant never swear)--his oath had scarcely passed its polluted threshold, when this Andrew Ferrara fell on the guard of his steel and shivered it to pieces. ‘Recreant loon!’ said I, ‘thou shalt this day remember thy evil deeds.’ Another blow on his helmet laid him at his huge length, and made him bite the dust. In the _mêlée_ that followed, I lost sight of him. We fought like lions--but with the hearts of Christians. While my gallant companions stemmed the tide of battle, the standard, rent to tatters, fell across my breast. I tore it from the staff, and wrapt it round my body. We cut our way through the enemy, and carried our General off the field.