For at the first onset the great gallowglass, amazed to see his man yet living, and ashamed, perchance, of his foul stroke, missed his mark and tumbled in a heap upon his foeman's sword.

Then with a mighty shout (for all thought this was the English leader slain), the two bands closed in, and a deadly fight began.
But I kept my eye on Alexander, whom, despite his prowess, I could see to be wounded hard.

Gradually, as his men fell on the enemy and the battle roared off eastward, he himself drooped, and drew out of the fray.

I could see him stand a moment, waving his sword, but his body swayed like that of a drunken man, and he leaned at last against a rock to keep from falling.
Then it was, before I could determine whether to warn Ludar of this accident or no, that a horrible deed was done.
For I was not the only one who had kept his eyes on the wounded chief.
While he stood there fainting, yet still shouting his men forward, Captain Merriman (an Englishman!) who had lagged behind his host, crept stealthily round the hill to where he stood, and suddenly fronting him, dared the dying man to single combat! From where I stood I could mark the curl of scorn on the young chief's lips, as he drew himself up and strove to lift his drooping arm.

Next moment the English captain's weapon flashed between, and as Alexander fell the coward's blade plunged through him twice.
Instantly a mighty cry went up from the enemy, for Captain Merriman, waving his bloody sword above his head, ran through the ranks yelling, "Victory! McDonnell is slain!" and the McDonnells, when they heard the shout, reeled under it in a panic and were slain by the score.
As for me, I had stood there like a lump of stone, not able to stir or shout.