by a bullet he propped himself against a tree, lit his
pipe, and directed the order of the battle. Above the
din rang out clear the wild cries of the red men, their
painted bodies flashing bright among the trees. In the
forefront was Brant, fighting vehemently, his towering
form set firmly, his deep voice echoing loud.

While the battle was at its height, rolling clouds had
gathered and a drenching storm checked the combatants in
their work of slaughter. The colonials were still fighting
desperately, but for them the day was lost. After the
few moments' interval they re-formed their scattered
ranks and resolutely faced the foe. No sooner, however,
had the struggle again commenced than the noise of cannon
came reverberating upon the moist air. The appointed
messengers had arrived at Fort Stanwix, many hours late,
and the signal had been given. Deceived by the cannonading
and fearing that St Leger might be in distress, the
loyalists rapidly drew off with their Indian allies,
leaving their opponents on the crimson field. But so
exhausted were the colonials by the fierce fighting they
had experienced that they could not follow after the
retreating army and were forced to move dejectedly down
the Mohawk valley. Four hundred of their men had fallen
in the battle, dead or wounded, nearly half the number
that had entered the swampy ravine. On a litter of green
boughs General Herkimer was carried to his stone house
on the river, where, a few weeks after the cruel fight,
he died with the same fortitude that he had shown when
under fire.