When the war broke out and the American army was in that vicinity, many of the officers frequented the tavern, and even the commander (who was very fond of French cooking) often dined there, and is said to have become quite fond of the dishes of Gainos. At all events, when the Continentals retired northward, the poor Frenchman thought the British would maltreat him for having fed the rebels, and he, therefore, left his inn in charge of some neighbors, and fled with Washington's army.

The first night after the landlord's departure the house was attacked by a party of Cowboys, who evidently thought the place practically deserted. In this supposition it happened that they were mistaken, for a number of the country people had collected in the tavern as was their wont, in spite of the absence of the proprietor, to gossip over the exciting condition of affairs. When they saw the band of robbers they determined to defend the place, and as few people went out at night in those

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troublous times unarmed, they were all in possession of weapons of some kind. Therefore when the marauders demanded admittance to the house, they were much surprised to be received by a shower of bullets, and soon came to the conclusion that the wisest thing for them to do was to leave the vicinity as rapidly as possible.

So the Cowboys picked up one of their number who had been hit, and proceeded through the meadows, woods, and orchards, for they seldom followed the roads, towards Kingsbridge. They had not gone far when they discovered that their wounded companion was dying from the effects of his injuries. This discovery made a halt necessary; they laid the poor fellow down on a grassy bank in an old orchard, and seated themselves, waiting for him to breathe his last.