Both lines were now moving forward, the first prepared for instant combat.  The clans of which it was composed formed each a sort of separate phalanx, narrow in front, and in depth ten, twelve, or fifteen files, according to the strength of the following.  The best-armed and best-born, for the words were synonymous, were placed in front of each of these irregular subdivisions.  The others in the rear shouldered forward the front, and by their pressure added both physical impulse and additional ardour and confidence to those who were first to encounter the danger.

‘Down with your plaid, Waverley,’ cried Fergus, throwing off his own; ’we’ll win silks for our tartans before the sun is above the sea.’

The clansmen on every side stript their plaids, prepared their arms, and there was an awful pause of about three minutes, during which the men, pulling off their bonnets, raised their faces to heaven and uttered a short prayer; then pulled their bonnets over their brows and began to move forward, at first slowly.  Waverley felt his heart at that moment throb as it would have burst from his bosom.  It was not fear, it was not ardour:  it was a compound of both, a new and deeply energetic impulse that with its first emotion chilled and astounded, then fevered and maddened his mind.  The sounds around him combined to exalt his enthusiasm; the pipes played, and the clans rushed forward, each in its own dark column.  As they advanced they mended their pace, and the muttering sounds of the men to each other began to swell into a wild cry.

At this moment the sun, which was now risen above the horizon, dispelled the mist.  The vapours rose like a curtain, and showed the two armies in the act of closing.  The line of the regulars was formed directly fronting the attack of the Highlanders; it glittered with the appointments of a complete army, and was flanked by cavalry and artillery.  But the sight impressed no terror on the assailants.

‘Forward, sons of Ivor,’ cried their Chief, ’or the Camerons will draw the first blood!’ They rushed on with a tremendous yell.

The rest is well known.  The horse, who were commanded to charge the advancing Highlanders in the flank, received an irregular fire from their fusees as they ran on and, seized with a disgraceful panic, wavered, halted, disbanded, and galloped from the field.  The artillery men, deserted by the cavalry, fled after discharging their pieces, and the Highlanders, who dropped their guns when fired and drew their broadswords, rushed with headlong fury against the infantry.