Before the Council broke up, the venerable chieftain again rose to speak. He had promised, he said, and would yield implicit obedience to all Dundee’s orders; but he requested that, before they separated, he might be allowed to give one command, not in his own name, but in that of the whole Council. It was the unanimous wish of all present that Dundee should not engage personally, for on him depended the fate, not only of their brave little army, but also of their king and of their country. ‘If your Lordship deny us this reasonable demand,’ he added, ‘for my own part I declare that neither I, nor any I am concerned in, shall draw a sword on this important occasion, whatever construction shall be put on the matter.’ In his reply to this appeal, Dundee admitted that, if he fell, his death might be a loss to them; but he reminded his hearers of the temper of their men. If the least reason were given them to doubt the personal courage of their leader, they would lose their respect for him, and give him, at best, but grudging obedience. For this reason, he begged to be permitted to give one ‘shear-darg’—that is, one harvest day’s work—to the King, his master, that he might have an opportunity of convincing the brave clans that he could hazard his life in that service, as freely as the meanest of them. If this were granted him he pledged his word never again to risk his person, so long as he had the honour of commanding them. Finding him inflexible in the chivalrous resolution which he had couched as a request, the Council reluctantly yielded. On the morning of the 27th of July, Mackay left his quarters in Dunkeld. By ten o’clock he had reached the southern extremity of the Pass of Killiecrankie, where he halted for two hours. At noon he again gave the order to advance. The Pass into which he led his army consisted of an almost straight road, fully two miles in length, and so narrow that barely half a dozen men could march abreast. To the right it was flanked by lofty mountains. The precipitous banks of the Garry skirted it on the left; and, on the other side of the river, a thickly wooded mountain hemmed in the landscape. Through this wild and rugged defile Balfour, Ramsay and Kenmore opened the march with their three battalions. Then came Belhaven’s troop of horse, followed by Leven’s regiment, and a battalion of the General’s. Over twelve hundred baggage horses formed a long line behind them, protected by a rear-guard which consisted of the Earl of Annandale’s troop of horse and Hastings’s regiment.