While Dunwoodie had been thus engaged, the body of Lawton lay in open
view of the whole squadron. He was a universal favorite, and the sight
inflamed the men to the utmost: neither officers nor soldiers possessed
that coolness which is necessary to insure success in military
operations; they spurred after their enemies, burning for vengeance.
The English were formed in a hollow square, which contained their
wounded, who were far from numerous, and were marching steadily across a
very uneven country as the dragoons approached. The horse charged in
column, and were led by Dunwoodie, who, burning with revenge, thought to
ride through their ranks, and scatter them at a blow. But the enemy knew
their own strength too well, and, standing firm, they received the
charge on the points of their bayonets. The horses of the Virginians
recoiled, and the rear rank of the foot throwing in a close fire, the
major, with a few men, fell. The English continued their retreat the
moment they were extricated from their assailants; and Dunwoodie, who
was severely, but not dangerously wounded, recalled his men from further
attempts, which must be fruitless.
A sad duty remained to be fulfilled. The dragoons retired slowly through
the hills, conveying their wounded commander, and the body of Lawton.
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