Reed urged that troops should be sent to support the brave fellows who had behaved so well. While he was talking with Washington, “the enemy,” he says, “appeared in open view, and sounded their bugles in the most insulting manner, as usual after a fox-chase. I never,” adds he, “felt such a sensation before; it seemed to crown our disgrace.” Washington, too, was stung by the taunting note of derision; it recalled the easy triumph of the enemy at Kip’s Bay. Resolved that something should be done to wipe out that disgrace, and rouse the spirits of the army, he ordered out three companies from Colonel Weedon’s regiment just arrived from Virginia, and sent them under Major Leitch, to join Knowlton’s rangers. The troops thus united were to get in the rear of the enemy, while a feigned attack was made upon them in front. The plan was partially successful. As the force advanced to make the false attack, the enemy ran down the hill, and took what they considered an advantageous position behind some fences and bushes which skirted it. A firing commenced between them and the advancing party, but at too great distance to do much harm on either side. In the mean time, Knowlton and Leitch, ignorant of this change in the enemy’s position, having made a circuit, came upon them in flank instead of in rear. They were sharply received. A vivid contest took place, in which Connecticut vied with Virginia in bravery. In a little while Major Leitch received three bullets in his side, and was borne off the field. Shortly afterward, a wound in the head from a musket ball, brought Knowlton to the ground. Colonel Reed placed him on his horse, and conveyed him to a distant redoubt. The men, undismayed by the fall of their leaders, fought with unflinching resolution under the command of their captains. The enemy were reinforced by a battalion of Hessians and a company of chasseurs. Washington likewise sent reinforcements of New England and Maryland troops. The action waxed hotter and hotter; the enemy were driven from the wood into the plain and pushed for some distance; the Americans were pursuing them with ardor, when Washington, having effected the object of this casual encounter, and being unwilling to risk a general action, ordered a retreat to be sounded. It was with difficulty, however, his men could be called off, so excited were they by the novelty of pursuing an enemy. They retired in good order; and, as it subsequently appeared, in good season, for the main body of the enemy were advancing at a rapid rate, and might have effectually reversed the scene. Colonel Knowlton did not long survive the action. “When gasping in the agonies of death,” says Colonel Reed, “all his inquiry was whether he had driven in the enemy.” He was anxious for the tarnished honor of Connecticut. He had the dying satisfaction of knowing that his men had behaved bravely, and driven the enemy in an open field-fight. So closed his gallant career.