The enemy, over four hundred strong, but without proper formation, fired an independent volley at the British as they approached to within thirty yards of the redoubt.  This was responded to with vigour, and grenadiers and volunteers, in response to brave Macdonell’s repeated calls, charged fiercely on Wool’s men, now huddled in disorder around the eighteen-pounder.  Some of them started to run towards the river bank.  One American officer, Ogilvie, of the 13th regulars, thinking the situation hopeless, raised his handkerchief on his sword-point in token of surrender.  Wool, a soldier of different calibre, tore it down, and a company of United States infantry coming at that moment to his assistance, he rallied his men.

The momentary advantage gained by Macdonell’s small band of heroes was lost, and in the exchange of shots that followed, Macdonell’s horse—­Brock’s charger—­was killed under him while he—­his uniform torn with bullets—­was thrown from the saddle as the animal plunged in its death struggle—­receiving several ghastly bullet wounds, from which he died the following day, after enduring much agony.  Williams, a moment later, fell desperately wounded; Dennis, suffering from a severe head wound, at first refused to quit the field, but Cameron having removed the sorely-stricken Macdonell, and Williams having recovered consciousness and escaped, the dispirited men fell back, retreated down the mountain at Parrott’s Tavern, retiring upon Vrooman’s battery.  Here they awaited, unmolested, until two in the afternoon, the arrival of reinforcements from Fort George.  The fight, though short, had been furious and deadly.  Americans and British alike were glad to take breath.

Meanwhile, unobserved, young Brant, with 120 Mohawk Indians, had scaled the mountain, east of St. David’s, outflanking the Americans, and hemmed them in until Captains Derenzy, of the 41st, and Holcroft, of the Artillery, arrived with the car-brigade from Fort George and trained two field-guns and a howitzer upon the landing.  Merritt, with a troop of mounted infantry, at the same time reached the village by the Queenston road.  This movement, which was a ruse, deceived the enemy, who at once redisposed his troops in readiness for an attack from this new quarter.

The American commander was ignorant of the fact that General Sheaffe—­with four companies of the 41st, 308 strong, the same number of militia, and a company of negro troops from Niagara, refugee slaves from the United States—­was at that moment approaching his rear in the rear of the Indians.  The British advanced in crescent-shaped formation, hidden by mountain and bush, and were shortly joined by a few more regulars and by two flank companies of the 2nd regiment of militia from Chippewa.  Indeed, many persons of all ranks of life, even veterans exempt by age, seized their muskets and joined the column to repel the invaders, “unappalled” by Dearborn’s threats of conquest or by the death of their “beloved hero, Isaac Brock.”  By this movement the British escaped the enfilading fire of the Lewiston batteries, the steep ascent of the heights in the teeth of the enemy’s field-works, and compelled him to change front.  The British of all ranks numbered less than one thousand.