Gates and the militia, composing two-thirds of the army, having thus shamefully taken themselves off, the brave old De Kalb, and his handful of continentals were left alone to try the fortune of the day. And never did men display a more determined valor! For though outnumbered more than two to one, they sustained the shock of the enemy's whole force, for upwards of an hour. With equal fury the ranks-sweeping cannon and muskets were employed by both sides, until the contending legions were nearly mixed. Then quitting this slower mode of slaughter, with rage-blackened faces and fiery eyeballs, they plunge forward on each other, to the swifter vengeance of the bayonet. Far and wide the woods resound with the clang of steel, while the red reeking weapons, like stings of infernal serpents, are seen piercing the bodies of the combatants. Some, on receiving the fatal stab, let drop their useless arms, and with dying fingers clasped the hostile steel that's cold in their bowels. Others, faintly crying out, "O God I am slain!" sank pale, quivering to the ground, while the vital current gushed in hissing streams from their bursted bosoms. Officers, as well as men, now mingle in the uproaring strife, and snatching the weapons of the slain, swell the horrid carnage. Glorying in his continentals, the brave De Kalb towers before them, like a pillar of fire. His burning face is like a red star, guiding their destructive course; his voice, as the horn that kindles the young pack in the chase of blood. A British grenadier, of giant size, rushes on him with a fixed bayonet. De Kalb parries the furious blow, and plunges his sword in the Briton's breast; then, seizing his falling arms, he deals death around him on the crowding foe. Loud rise the shouts of the Americans; but louder still the shouts of the more numerous enemy. The battle burns anew along all the fierce conflicting line. There, the distant Cornwallis pushes on his fresh regiments, like red clouds, bursting in thunder on the Americans; and here, condensing his diminished legions, the brave De Kalb still maintains the unequal contest. But, alas! what can valor do against equal valor, aided by such fearful odds? The sons of freedom bleed on every side. With grief their gallant leader marks the fall of his heroes; soon himself to fall. For, as with a face all inflamed in the fight, he bends forward animating his men, he receives ELEVEN WOUNDS! Fainting with loss of blood, he falls to the ground. Several brave men, Britons and Americans, were killed over him, as they furiously strove to destroy or to defend. In the midst of the clashing bayonets, his only surviving aid, Monsieur du Buyson, ran to him, and stretching his arms over the fallen hero, called out, "Save the baron de Kalb! Save the baron de Kalb!" The British officers interposed, and prevented his immediate destruction.