This you will
disobey at your peril."
As this doughty old German marched to the relief of Fort Stanwix
he fell into an ambush prepared for him by the famous Indian chief,
Joseph Brant, who, with his braves, was fighting on the side of
the British. A terrible hand to hand struggle followed. The air
was filled with wild yells and still wilder curses as the two foes
grappled. It was war in all its savagery. Tomahawks and knives were
used as freely as rifles. Stabbing, shooting, wrestling, the men
fought each other more like wildcats than human beings. A fearful
thunderstorm burst forth, too. Rain fell in torrents, a raging
wind tore through the tree tops, thunder and lightning added their
terrors to the scene.
For five hours the savage warfare lasted. Almost at the beginning
a ball shattered Herkimer's leg and killed his horse. But the stout
old warrior refused to leave the field. He bade his men take the
saddle from his horse and place it at the root of a great beech
tree. Sitting there he directed the battle, shouting his orders in
his quaint guttural English, and calmly smoking a pipe the while.
They were the last orders he was to give. For, ten days after
the battle he died from his wound, serenely smoking his pipe, and
reading his old German Bible almost to the last.
Soon the noise of the battle was heard at Fort Stanwix, and the
garrison, led by Colonel Marinus Willett, sallied forth to the
aid of their comrades, put a detachment of the enemy to flight,
and captured their stores of food and ammunition, together with
five flags.
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