But the Indians by this time had enough of it.  The stubborn defence of the provincials had sadly thinned their ranks, and seeing the Tories falling back, they raised their cry of retreat, “Oonah!  Oonah!” and at once broke and fled.  The Tories and regulars, dismayed by their flight, quickly followed, the bullets of the provincials adding wings to their speed.

Thus ended one of the hottest and most deadly, for the numbers engaged, of the battles of the Revolution.  Of the provincials, less than half of them ever saw their homes again.  The loss of the enemy was probably still heavier.  General Herkimer died ten days after the battle.  The militia, despite the well-laid ambuscade into which they had marched, were the victors, but they had been so severely handled that they were unable to accomplish their design, the relief of the fort.

As for the garrison, they had not been idle during the battle.  The sound of the combat had been borne to their ears, and immediately after the cessation of the rain Colonel Willett made a sally from the fort, at the head of two hundred and fifty men.  The camp of the enemy had been depleted for the battle, and the sortie proved highly successful.  The remnants of Johnson’s regiment were soon driven from their camp.  The Indian encampment beyond was demolished, its savage guards flying in terror from “the Devil,” by which expressive name they called Colonel Willett.  Wagons were hurried from the fort, camp equipage, British flags, papers, and the effects of the officers loaded into them, and twenty-one loads of this useful spoil triumphantly carried off.  As the victorious force was returning, Colonel St. Leger appeared, with a strong body of men, across the river, just in time to be saluted by a shower of bullets, the provincials then retiring, without the loss of a man.  The setting sun that day cast its last rays on five British standards, displayed from the walls of the fort, with the stars and stripes floating proudly above them.  The day had ended triumphantly for the provincials, though it proved unsuccessful in its main object; for the fort was still invested, and the rescuing force were in no condition to come to its aid.

The investment, indeed, was so close that the garrison knew nothing of the result of the battle.  St. Leger took advantage of this, and sent a white flag to the fort with false information, declaring that the relief-party had been annihilated, that Burgoyne had reached and captured Albany, and that, unless the fort was surrendered, he could not much longer restrain the Indians from devastating the valley settlements with fire and tomahawk.

This story Gansevoort did not half believe, and answered the messenger with words of severe reprobation for his threat of an Indian foray.

“After you get out of this fort,” he concluded, “you may turn around and look at its outside, but never expect to come in again, unless as a prisoner.  Before I would consent to deliver this garrison to such a murdering set as your army, by your own account, consists of, I would suffer my body to be filled with splinters and set on fire, as you know has at times been practised by such hordes of women-and children-killers as belong to your army.”