rushed into the fray, striking their shields, and uttering the
inspiring slogan of "Wallace and freedom!" It was re-echoed by every
Scot; those that were flying returned; they who sustained the conflict
hailed the cry with braces sinews; and the terrible thunder of the
word, pealing from rank to rank, struck a terror into De Valence's men,
which made them pause. The extinction of the beacon made them still
more aghast.

On that short moment turned the crisis of their fate. Wallace cut his
way forward through the dismayed Southrons, who, bearing the reiterated
shouts of the fresh reinforcements, knew not whether its strength might
not be thousands instead of hundreds, and, panic-stricken, they became
an easy prey to their enemies. Surrounded, mixed with their
assailants, they knew not friends from foes, and each individual being
bent on flight, they indiscriminately cut to right and left, wounding
as many of their own men as of the Scots, and finally, after
slaughtering half their companions, some few escaped through the small
posterns of the garrison, leaving the inner ballia entirely in
possession of the foe.

The whole of the field being cleared, Wallace ordered the tower to be
forced. A strong guard was still within, and, as the assailants drew
near, every means was used to render their assaults abortive. As the
Scots pressed to the main entrance, stones and heavy metals were thrown
upon their heads; but, not in the least intimidated, they stood beneath
the iron shower, till Wallace ordered them to drive a large felled
tree, which lay on the ground, against the hinges of the door. It
burst open, and the whole party rushed into the hall.

A short, sanguinary, but decisive conflict took place. The hauberk and