"
"Yes," replied Burley, with stern and gloomy deliberation, "I am that
John Balfour, who promised to lay thy head where thou shouldst never lift
it again; and God do so unto me, and more also, if I do not redeem my
word!"
"Then a bed of heather, or a thousand merks!" said Bothwell, striking at
Burley with his full force.
"The sword of the Lord and of Gideon!" answered Balfour, as he parried
and returned the blow.
There have seldom met two combatants more equally matched in strength of
body, skill in the management of their weapons and horses, determined
courage, and unrelenting hostility. After exchanging many desperate
blows, each receiving and inflicting several wounds, though of no great
consequence, they grappled together as if with the desperate impatience
of mortal hate, and Bothwell, seizing his enemy by the shoulder-belt,
while the grasp of Balfour was upon his own collar, they came headlong to
the ground. The companions of Burley hastened to his assistance, but were
repelled by the dragoons, and the battle became again general. But
nothing could withdraw the attention of the combatants from each other,
or induce them to unclose the deadly clasp in which they rolled together
on the ground, tearing, struggling, and foaming, with the inveteracy of
thorough-bred bull-dogs.
Several horses passed over them in the melee without their quitting hold
of each other, until the sword-arm of Bothwell was broken by the kick of
a charger.
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