The others in the rear shouldered forward the front, and by their pressure added both physical impulse, and additional ardour and confidence, to those who were first to encounter the danger.
'Down with your plaid, Waverley,' cried Fergus, throwing off his own; 'we'll win silks for our tartans before the sun is above the sea.' The clansmen on every side stripped their plaids, prepared their arms, and there was an awful pause of about three minutes, during which the men, pulling off their bonnets, raised their faces to heaven, and uttered a short prayer; then pulled their bonnets over their brows, and began to move forward at first slowly.

Waverley felt his heart at that moment throb as it would have burst from his bosom.

It was not fear, it was not ardour,--it was a compound of both, a new and deeply energetic impulse, that with its first emotion chilled and astounded, then fevered and maddened his mind, The sounds around him combined to exalt his enthusiasm; the pipes played, and the clans rushed forward, each in its own dark column.

As they advanced they mended their pace, and the muttering sounds of the men to each other began to swell into a wild cry.
At this moment, the sun, which was now risen above the horizon, dispelled the mist.

The vapours rose like a curtain, and showed the two armies in the act of closing.