The ranking American officer, Brigadier General James Williams, was mortally wounded while "on the very top of the mountain, in the thickest of the fight"; and as he momentarily revived, his first words were: "For God's sake, boys, don't give up the hill." Hambright, sorely wounded, his boot overflowing with blood and his hat riddled with three bullet holes, declined to dismount, but pressed gallantly forward, exclaiming in his "Pennsylvania Dutch": "Huzza, my prave poys, fight on a few minutes more, and the pattle will be over!" On the British side, Ferguson was supremely valorous, rapidly dashing from one point to another, rallying his men, oblivious to all danger.

Wherever the shrill note of his silver whistle sounded, there the fighting was hottest and the British resistance the most stubborn.

His officers fought with the characteristic steadiness of the British soldier; and again and again his men charged headlong against the wavering and fiery circle of the frontiersmen.
Ferguson's boast that "he was on King's Mountain, that he was king of the Mountain, and God Almighty could not drive him from it" was doubtless prompted, less by a belief in the impregnability of his position, than by a desperate desire to inspire confidence in his men.

His location was admirably chosen for defense against attack by troops employing regulation tactics; but, never dreaming of the possibility of sudden investment, Ferguson had erected no fortifications for his encampment.

His frenzied efforts on the battlefield seem like a mad rush against fate; for the place was indefensible against the peculiar tactics of the frontiersmen.