When one group of Redcoats was forced back with heavy losses, they tried to raise a white flag, but Ferguson galloped over and tore it down. Finally, troops along the northern perimeter broke from the heavy foliage into the cleared area on the lip of the mountain. Ethan was in the vanguard, and saw Ferguson and a group of his officers and troops assembled in the center of the camp, gaining some protection from carts, wagons, and the piles of logs and stones. Ferguson seemed to have no fear, but dashed about on his horse rallying his men with shouts and his shrill whistle. When he saw the rebels emerge from the forest, he charged forward with his sword raised, leading about a dozen other mounted Redcoats. Now seeing the British commander clearly, at a distance of about sixty yards, Ethan knelt in the open and leveled his rifle at the commander’s chest.

Ferguson was killed instantly, and his right foot caught momentarily in its stirrup, causing his body to be dragged across the rough stones before falling to the ground. Ethan could see the lifeless corpse twitch as a fusillade of other rifle bullets found their mark.

Now in command, Captain DePeyster saw that the situation was hopeless and raised a white flag, but it had little effect on many of the attacking troops. They either did not know the meaning of surrender, remembered the slaughter of their own families by British troops and their allies, or despised the Tories too much to be chivalrous in victory to a commander who had called them “barbarians,” “cowards,” and “a set of mongrels.” DePeyster threw his sword on the ground and shouted to Colonel Campbell, “This is damned unfair!” Campbell, now obviously in command, replied that DePeyster should dismount, his men should sit on the ground, and everyone who surrendered should remove their hats.

A group of Over Mountain men surrounded Ferguson’s body, and it was soon stripped of pistol, sword, silver whistle, hat, and all clothing. Even some of the officers participated in this desecration of a man whose rash words had aroused their intense hatred. They learned that he had two mistresses in camp with him, one of whom was found dead in the commanding officer’s tent, killed by a stray bullet. After some shouted arguments and ribald jokes, her body was wrapped together with Ferguson’s in a raw beef hide, facing each other, and buried in a shallow grave. The militia released the other woman, along with nine other camp followers who had been traveling with Ferguson’s army, claiming to be wives of officers and other men. Some of the favorites had ridden the best horses, sidesaddle, and had received fancy women’s apparel that the soldiers had plundered from the local inhabitants.