in almost as bad a case, because it had got entangled in
the woods beyond the summit and become enveloped by the
Indians there. The rear was even worse, as men slank off
from it at every opportunity. The front stood fast under
Winfield Scott and Wadsworth. But not for long. The
British brought their bayonets down and charged. The
Indians raised the war-whoop and bounded forward. The
Americans fired a hurried, nervous, straggling fusillade;
then broke and fled in wild confusion. A very few climbed
down the cliff and swam across. Not a single boat came
over from the 'petrified' militia. Some more Americans,
attempting flight, were killed by falling headlong or by
drowning. Most of them clustered among the trees near
the edge and surrendered at discretion when Winfield
Scott, seeing all was lost, waved his handkerchief on
the point of his sword.

The American loss was about a hundred killed, two hundred
wounded, and nearly a thousand prisoners. The British
loss was trifling by comparison, only a hundred and fifty
altogether. But it included Brock; and his irreparable
death alone was thought, by friend and foe alike, to have
more than redressed the balance. This, indeed, was true
in a much more pregnant sense than those who measure by
mere numbers could ever have supposed. For genius is a
thing apart from mere addition and subtraction. It is
the incarnate spirit of great leaders, whose influence
raises to its utmost height the worth of every follower.
So when Brock's few stood fast against the invader's
many, they had his soaring spirit to uphold them as well