Claverhouse himself could say no more than that "they are not come
easily off on the other side, for I saw several of them fall before we
came to the shock."

Pell-mell went the rout over the hill and across the moorland to
Strathavon, through which the Life Guards had marched but a few hours
before in all their bravery. As their captain passed by the place where
his prisoner of the morning, John King, was now lustily chanting a psalm
of triumph, the reverend gentleman called out to him, with audacity
worthy of Gabriel Kettledrummle, "to stay the afternoon sermon." At
Strathavon the townspeople drew out to bar their passage, but the fear
of their pursuers lent the flying troopers fresh heart: "we took
courage," writes Claverhouse, "and fell to them, made them run, leaving
a dozen on the place." Through Strathavon they clattered, and never drew
rein till they found themselves safe in Glasgow among their own
comrades.

Fortunately the pursuit had slackened, or it might have gone ill with
the garrison in Glasgow. Claverhouse's men had no doubt fine tales to
tell of the fury of the Whig devils behind them; and had Hamilton been
strong enough in cavalry to enter the town at the heels of the flying
troopers it is not likely that he would have met with much opposition.
The pursuit, however, did not follow far. Thanksgivings had to be made
for the victory, and the prisoners to be looked to. All these, according
to Wodrow, were let go after being disarmed; but Hamilton himself tells
a very different tale. His orders had been strict that there should be
no quarter that day; but on his return from the pursuit he found that
his orders had been disobeyed. Five prisoners had been dismissed, and
were already out of his reach: two others were waiting while their
captors debated on their fate. Then Hamilton, furious that any of