The battered veteran, hero of some of the most remarkable military adventures that history has ever recorded,' fought his way on foot, in the midst of the fray, like a young ensign who had his first laurels to win.

And, in truth, the day was not one for cunning manoeuvres, directed, at a distance, by a skillful tactician.

It was a brisk close contest, hand to hand and eye to eye--a Homeric encounter, in which the chieftains were to prove a right to command by their personal prowess.

Alexander, descending suddenly--dramatically, as it were--when the battle seemed lost--like a deity from the clouds-was to justify, by the strength of his arm, the enthusiasm which his name always awakened.
Having, at a glance, taken in the whole situation, he made his brief arrangements, going from rank to rank, and disposing his troops in the most effective manner.

He said but few words, but his voice had always a telling effect.
"The man who refuses, this day, to follow me," he said, "has never had regard to his own honour, nor has God's cause or the King's ever been dear to his heart." His disheartened Spaniards and Italians--roused as by a magic trumpet--eagerly demanded to be led against the rebels.