Loud shouts of triumph now echoed over the whole field.  The battle was fought and won, and the whole baggage, artillery, and military stores of the regular army remained in possession of the victors.  Never was a victory more complete.  Scarce any escaped from the battle, excepting the cavalry, who had left it at the very onset, and even these were broken into different parties and scattered all over the country.  So far as our tale is concerned, we have only to relate the fate of Balmawhapple, who, mounted on a horse as headstrong and stiff-necked as his rider, pursued the flight of the dragoons above four miles from the field of battle, when some dozen of the fugitives took heart of grace, turned round, and cleaving his skull with their broadswords, satisfied the world that the unfortunate gentleman had actually brains, the end of his life thus giving proof of a fact greatly doubted during its progress.  His death was lamented by few.  Most of those who knew him agreed in the pithy observation of Ensign Maccombich, that there ‘was mair tint (lost) at Sheriff-Muir.’  His friend, Lieutenant Jinker, bent his eloquence only to exculpate his favourite mare from any share in contributing to the catastrophe.  ‘He had tauld the laird a thousand times,’ he said,’that it was a burning shame to put a martingale upon the puir thing, when he would needs ride her wi’ a curb of half a yard lang; and that he could na but bring himsell (not to say her) to some mischief, by flinging her down, or otherwise; whereas, if he had had a wee bit rinnin ring on the snaffle, she wad ha’ rein’d as cannily as a cadger’s pownie.’

Such was the elegy of the Laird of Balmawhapple. [Footnote:  See Note 9.]

CHAPTER XLVIII

AN UNEXPECTED EMBARRASSMENT

When the battle was over, and all things coming into order, the Baron of Bradwardine, returning from the duty of the day, and having disposed those under his command in their proper stations, sought the Chieftain of Glennaquoich and his friend Edward Waverley.  He found the former busied in determining disputes among his clansmen about points of precedence and deeds of valour, besides sundry high and doubtful questions concerning plunder.  The most important of the last respected the property of a gold watch, which had once belonged to some unfortunate English officer.  The party against whom judgment was awarded consoled himself by observing, ’She (i.e. the watch, which he took for a living animal) died the very night Vich lan Vohr gave her to Murdoch’; the machine, having, in fact, stopped for want of winding up.