Although the American forces retired with celerity, it was not long before Colonel DeLancey overtook them in Eastchester, at the head of his whole corps, and some Hessian riflemen from Kingsbridge under Captain Hetlzheimer, but his infantry being extremely fatigued by a forced march of unusual rapidity, he halted for a while before leading them against the Americans. At this moment the guide of Kingsbridge, who always courted the post of danger, the foremost of the van in pur-suit, the hindmost of the rear in retreat, was riding side by side with his cousin the late William N. Dyckman of Macakassin, the last of all the party. Perceiving the refu-gees stationary, he wheeled about and advanced upon the pursuers, sword in hand, as his custom was, for the purpose of challenging some one of them to meet him in a single combat. It happened unfortunately that a solitary rifleman had crept considerably ahead of the British party, concealing him-self behind a stone wall, from which he took deliberate aim at the guide and fired with mournful effect. The distance from which the fatal shot came was very extraordinary, and Dyck-man himself soon afterward said, that he did not suppose there existed a firelock that could carry a ball so far. After receiving the wound in his body he leaned on one side, which gave his horse an inclination in the same direction, and his cousin who was near by, cried out immediately: "Abraham! your horse is wounded." Dyckman, turning slowly about answered, but with a look and gesture which told his state, before he gave utterance to a word. "William," said the stricken soldier, laying his hand upon the wound: "I've got it now. But don't let me fall into the enemy's hands. I dread that." His two brothers Jacobus and Michael, who were a short distance off, were now called, and these, when they came up, took the reins of his bridle and rode briskly forward, while he with their aid supported himself by the horse's mane, until they passed the American detachment and reached a place of safety.