The whole of the field being cleared, Wallace ordered the tower to be
forced. A strong guard was still within, and, as the assailants drew
near, every means was used to render their assaults abortive. As the
Scots pressed to the main entrance, stones and heavy metals were thrown
upon their heads; but, not in the least intimidated, they stood beneath
the iron shower, till Wallace ordered them to drive a large felled
tree, which lay on the ground, against the hinges of the door. It
burst open, and the whole party rushed into the hall.
A short, sanguinary, but decisive conflict took place. The hauberk and
plaid of Wallace were dyed from head to foot; his own brave blood, and
the ferocious stream from his enemies, mingled in one horrid hue upon
his garments.
"Wallace! Wallace!" cried the stentorian lungs of Kirkpatrick. In a
moment Wallace was at his side, and found him wrestling with two men.
The light of a single lamp, suspended from the rafters, fell direct
upon the combatants. A dagger was pointed at the life of the old
knight, but Wallace laid the holder of it dead across the body of his
intended victim, and catching the other assailant by the throat, threw
him prostrate to the ground.
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