garrisons, or as many as could, bound not to surrender, gallantly fought their way out, those of Fort Montgomery retreating across the gully on the north side; while many others, including Gov. Clinton, escaped over the south breastwork, and making their way down to the water's edge, crossed the river on the boom. The darkness of the evening much favored the escape of our soldiers, as did their knowledge of the various paths in the mountains, and a large number, with nearly all the officers, got away. But many were taken prisoners, and about 100 were slain; among the latter was a son of Colonel Allison, and Capt. Milliken, of McClaughry's regiment (Mr. Sears' captain); also James Van Arsdale, of Hanover Precinct, a kinsman of Tunis and John, and a private in Dubois's regiment. John Thompson was killed, who was nearly related to the Clintons, and cousin to William Bodle, Esq., late of Tompkins County, N. Y.[23] The enemy paid dearly for their conquest, both in officers and men, the total being 41 killed and 142 wounded. Among the officers killed, besides Col. Campbell, Majors Grant and Sill, and Capt. Stewart, was Count Grabouski, a Polish nobleman acting as aid-de-camp to Sir Henry Clinton; and Sir Henry himself narrowly escaped our grape-shot, as also Maj. Gan. John Vaughan, whose horse was shot under him. Many incidents are related of those who met with hair-breadth escapes. Gen. James Clinton was among the last to leave Fort Clinton, and escaped not until he was severely wounded by the thrust of a bayonet, pursued and fired at by the enemy, and his attending servant killed. He slid down a declivity of one hundred feet to the ravine of the creek which separated the forts, and proceeding cautiously along its bank reached the mountains at a safe distance from the enemy, after having fallen into the stream, by which, the water being cold, the flow of blood from his wound was staunched. The return of light enabled him to find a horse, which took him to his house, in Little Britain, where he arrived about noon, covered with blood, and suffering from a high fever. Capt. William Faulkner, of McClaughry's regiment, had a bayonet driven in his breast with such force that, being unfixed at the same moment, it stuck fast, when he himself drew it out, and threw it back with all his might, and his man fell. The enemy were pressing into the fort, and the captain made his way on the ground by the side of the column and got out. Walking a mile or so he lay down to drink at a brook, the draft stopped the blood, but he was too weak to rise. He "made his peace with God" (to use his own expression), and expected there to die. But a man came along on horseback, who placed him on his horse, and took him to an inn two miles beyond. There he found a dozen of his own men, by whom he was taken to his own house on the Walkill, and he finally recovered.[24]