The battle was won with a swift and horrible completeness and became a massacre.

Not much quarter was given; much that was horrible was done and seen.
Immoderate victory sat and sang to the white-cockaded army.
Out of the mist-bank before Captain Ian Rullock grew a great horse with a man upon it of great stature and frame.

It came to the Jacobite like a vision, with a startling and intense reality.

He was standing with his sword drawn; there was a drift of mist, and then there was the horse and rider--there was Alexander.
He looked down at Ian, and his face was not pale but set.

He made a gesture that seemed full of satisfaction, and would have dismounted and drawn his sword.