The Canadians and Indians, who had fled almost unharmed, halted that evening at the scene of Williams's defeat to scalp the dead and dying. Finding they were not molested, they prepared for rest and refreshment, and even debated upon the renewal of the attack. The heavy loss already sustained by the English (upward of 200 men), and the consequent disorganization, prevented them from following up their victory: this forced inaction had well-nigh proved the destruction of 120 men sent from Fort Edward to their aid under Captain Macginnis. This gallant officer, however, had secured his march by every proper precaution, and was warned by his scouts that he was close upon the spot where the still formidable enemy was bivouacked. He promptly formed his little band, and sustained a sharp engagement for nearly two hours, extricating his detachment at length with little loss, and much honor to himself. The brave young man was, however, mortally wounded, and died three days afterward in Johnson's camp. The remnant of the French army then dispersed, and sought shelter at Ticonderoga.[49] Though the brilliance of this success was obscured by the somewhat timid inaction that followed,[50] the consequences were of great importance. The English troops, it must be owned, were become so accustomed to defeat and disaster, that they went into action spiritless and distrustful. Now that a formidable force of the enemy had yielded to their prowess, confidence began to revive, and gradually strengthened into boldness. Had the French been successful in their attack, the results would have been most disastrous for the British colonies: nothing would have remained to arrest their progress into the heart of the country, or stem the tide of ruin that had followed on their track. The value of this unusual triumph on the Western continent was duly felt in England: a baronetcy by royal favor, and a grant of £5000 by a grateful Parliament, rewarded the successful general.