Burley and Morton were both hurried off the field by the confused tide of
fugitives. They made some attempt to defend the streets of the town of
Hamilton; but, while labouring to induce the fliers to face about and
stand to their weapons. Burley received a bullet which broke his
sword-arm.
"May the hand be withered that shot the shot!" he exclaimed, as the sword
which he was waving over his head fell powerless to his side. "I can
fight no longer." [Note: This incident, and Burley's exclamation, are
taken from the records.]
Then turning his horse's head, he retreated out of the confusion. Morton
also now saw that the continuing his unavailing efforts to rally the
fliers could only end in his own death or captivity, and, followed by the
faithful Cuddie, he extricated himself from the press, and, being well
mounted, leaped his horse over one or two enclosures, and got into the
open country.
From the first hill which they gained in their flight, they looked back,
and beheld the whole country covered with their fugitive companions, and
with the pursuing dragoons, whose wild shouts and halloo, as they did
execution on the groups whom they overtook, mingled with the groans and
screams of their victims, rose shrilly up the hill.
"It is impossible they can ever make head again," said Morton.
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