he overtook some more of his runaways whom Ramsay was leading in the same direction.  Mackay did all it was possible for a brave man to do to encourage his men and keep them together.  But many were too frightened to heed his words, or even the pistol with which he threatened to shoot the first man he saw leaving his ranks.  The news of his defeat had spread with marvellous rapidity:  the whole country was up:  every glen and mountain sent out its reapers to the rich harvest.  And where enemies did not exist, the fears of these poor wretches found them.  Every drover with his herd, every shepherd with his flock, was magnified into a fresh array of the terrible Highlanders.  On the evening of Monday, the 29th, Mackay reached Stirling with barely one-fifth of the force with which he had marched out of the town a week earlier.

The Highland loss was calculated at nine hundred men.  The Macdonalds and Camerons were the principal sufferers, their position on the left and left-centre having brought them in contact with the battalions who had kept their ground.  Glengarry’s brother was among the killed, with Macdonald of Largo, and no less than five cousins of Macdonald of the Isles.  Among the Lowlanders fell Hallyburton of Pitcur, and Gilbert Ramsay, Dundee’s favourite officer, who had dreamed overnight of the victory and of his death.  But though the battle had been won for James, he had suffered a greater loss than William.  A fresh army could replace Mackay’s broken battalions; but no one could replace Dundee, and Dundee was dead.

He had ridden at the head of his cavalry straight on Mackay’s centre.  But for some unexplained reason his troopers had not followed him close; whether their new captain did not like the guns, or had misunderstood his orders, is not clear.  Dunfermline, seeing his general’s plumed hat waving above the smoke, had spurred out of the ranks with sixteen gentlemen, and with these sabres the guns were taken and silenced.  Dundee, seeing that all went well on the right wing, turned to the left where the Macdonalds were wavering before the firmer front of Hastings’ Englishmen.  As he galloped across the field to bring them to the charge, a shot struck him in the right side immediately below his breastplate.  For a few strides further he clung swaying to his saddle, and then sank from his horse into the arms of a soldier named Johnstone.  Like Wolfe on the heights of Abraham, he asked how the day went.  “Well for the King,” said the man, “but I am sorry for your Lordship.”  And like Wolfe, Dundee answered, “It is the less matter for me, seeing the day goes well for my master.”  As his officers returned from the pursuit they found him on the field, and it is said, though one would be glad to disbelieve it, stripped by the very men whom he had led to victory.  By his side was found a bundle of papers.  Among them was a letter from Melfort, bidding him be sure that both he and James would feel themselves bound by no promise of toleration circumstances had induced them to make.  Well might Balcarres, who knew his friend’s disposition better than Melfort, tell James how such foolish and disingenuous dealing had grieved Dundee and all who wished honestly to the cause.[106]