garrison, awakened by the flying wretches from the defeat, turned out
all its power, and, with De Valence at their head, poured on
Kirkpatrick's men, and would have overpowered them had not Wallace and
his sixty heroes, with desperate determination, cut a passage to them
through the closing ranks.

Pikes struck against corslets, swords rang on helmets, and the
ponderous battle-ax, falling with the weight of fate, cleft the
uplifted target in twain. Blood spouted on every side, and the
dripping hands of Kirkpatrick, as Wallace tore him from the enemy,
proclaimed that he had bathed his vengeance in the stream. On being
released, he shook his ensanguined arms, and burst into a horrid laugh.
"The work speeds! Now through the heart of the governor!"

Even while he spoke Wallace lost him again from his side; and again, by
the shouts of the Southrons, who cried, "No quarter for the rebel!" he
learned he must be retaken. That merciless cry was the death-bell of
their own doom. It directed Wallace to the spot, and throwing himself
and his brethren of Lanark into the midst of the band which held the
prisoner, Kirkpatrick was again rescued. But thousands seemed now
surrounding the chief himself. To do this generous deed, he had
advanced further than he ought, and himself and his brave followers
must have been slain had he not recoiled, and covering their rear with
the great tower, all who had the hardihood to approach fell under the
weight of the Scottish claymore.

Scrymgeour, at the head of the Loch Dione men, in vain attempted to
reach this contending party; and fearful of losing the royal standard,
he was turning to make a valiant retreat, when Murray and Edwin (having
disengaged their followers from the precipices of the beacon rock)