Nigel Graheme’s company had suffered severely; he himself was badly wounded.  A lieutenant and one of the ensigns were killed, with thirty of the men, and many others were wounded with pike or bullet.  Malcolm had had his share of the fighting.  Several times he and the men immediately round him had been charged by the Imperialists, but their long pikes had each time repulsed the assaults.

Malcolm had before this come to the conclusion, from the anecdotes he heard from the officers who had served through several campaigns, that the first quality of an officer is coolness, and that this is even more valuable than is reckless bravery.  He had therefore set before himself that his first duty in action was to be perfectly calm, to speak without hurry or excitement in a quiet and natural tone.

In his first fight at Schiefelbrune he had endeavoured to carry this out, but although he gained much commendation from Nigel and the other officers of the company for his coolness on that occasion, he had by no means satisfied himself; but upon the present occasion he succeeded much better in keeping his natural feelings in check, forcing himself to speak in a quiet and deliberate way without flurry or excitement, and in a tone of voice in no way raised above the ordinary.  The effect had been excellent, and the soldiers, in talking over the affair next day, were loud in their praise of the conduct of the young ensign.

“The lad was as cool as an old soldier,” one of the sergeants said, “and cooler.  Just as the Austrian column was coming on for the third time, shouting, and cheering, and sending their bullets in a hail, he said to me as quietly as if he was giving an order about his dinner, ’I think, Donald, it would be as well to keep the men out of fire until the last moment.  Some one might get hurt, you see, before the enemy get close enough to use the pikes.’  And then when they came close he said, ’Now, sergeant, I think it is time to move out and stop them.’  When they came upon us he was fighting with his half pike with the best of us.  And when the Austrians fell back and began to fire again, and we took shelter behind the houses, he walked about on the road, stooping down over those who had fallen, to see if all were killed, and finding two were alive he called out, ’Will one of you just come and help me carry these men under shelter?  They may get hit again if they remain here.’  I went out to him, but I can tell you I didn’t like it, for the bullets were coming along the road in a shower.  His helmet was knocked off by one, and one of the men we were carrying in was struck by two more bullets and killed, and the lad seemed to mind it no more than if it had been a rainstorm in the hills at home.  I thought when we left Nithsdale that the captain was in the wrong to make so young a boy an officer, but I don’t think so now.  Munro himself could not have been cooler.  If he lives he will make a great soldier.”