Part 23

"The Great Spirit has fixed this spot for the Indian to kindle his campfire, and he dare not go to any other," said Tecumseh. "Elsk-wata-wa and his brother Tecumseh must remain upon the banks of the Tippecanoe, or the Great Spirit will be angry with them. Evil birds have carried false news to my father, the Governor. Let him not believe that Elsk-wata-wa, the Prophet, wishes to make war upon him and his people. It is not true."

The messenger brought this answer back to Harrison, but in a few weeks the Governor dispatched a Mr. Barron to Tippecanoe, with a letter requesting the Indians to allow the land to be surveyed, to live at peace with the white settlers, and to submit to the Government. When Barron reached Tippecanoe, he was conducted with great ceremony to the place where the Prophet was seated, surrounded by numerous braves in their gaudiest raiment.

In a tone of great anger and scorn, the red leader rose, and said: "For what purpose do you come here? Bronilette was here; he was a spy. Dubois was here; _he_ was a spy. Now _you_ have come here; _you_, also, are a spy. _There_ is your grave! Look on it!" He pointed, as he ceased speaking, to the ground near the spot where the emissary stood, and this person naturally began to tremble for his life.

At this juncture, the majestic Tecumseh strode from a lodge, and, in a cold and haughty tone, said: "Your life is in no danger. Say why you have come among us."

"Here is a letter from Governor Harrison," Barron replied. "I will read it: 'Tecumseh and Elsk-wata-wa, I know that your warriors are brave, but ours are not less so. What can your few brave warriors do against the innumerable warriors of the Seventeen Fires (Seventeen States)? Our bluecoats are more numerous than you can count; our hunters are like leaves in the forest, or the grains of sand upon the Wabash. Do you think that the redcoats (British) can protect you; they are not even able to protect themselves. They do not think of going to war with us. If they did, you would soon see our flag wave over all the forts of Canada. What reason have you to complain of the Seventeen Fires? Have they taken anything from you? Have they ever violated any of the treaties made with the red men? You say that they have purchased lands from those who had no right to sell them. Show that this is so and the land will be instantly restored. Show us the rightful owners. I have full power to arrange this business, but, if you would rather carry your complaints before your great father in Washington, you can do so.'"

"I like this letter," said Tecumseh, when Barron had finished. "I remember your Big Chief Harrison when he was with the Big Snake (General Wayne) at Fallen Timbers. I will come and hold a council with him, with thirty of my principal men. Some of my young men will wish to go, too, so there will be more of us. We will come to the home of your Big Chief in a short time."

So on the twelfth of August, 1810, four hundred warriors, painted red, yellow and blue, armed with tomahawks and spears, and naked to the waist, paddled down the Wabash to confer with Harrison. They were a fierce-looking lot, and Tecumseh, who led them, although not much painted, was brilliant in new clothes and gorgeous blankets.

Harrison learned of the approach of the Indians from a scout, and was waiting for them upon the front porch of his own house, surrounded by a small guard of soldiers, many citizens of Vincennes, and several civil and military officers. The redskins were soon seen coming down the river, and, landing upon the shore, they approached the house. Advancing to within about forty yards of the place where Harrison was sitting, they all halted, and, after an interpreter was sent forward, Tecumseh stated that he refused to hold the council upon the porch, but would do so in a grove near by. The Governor was perfectly willing to acquiesce, and, moving the chairs and benches to the grove, the whites seated themselves, while the redskins squatted upon the grass.

Tecumseh now began to speak. "I am determined to fight against the cession of lands held by the Indians to you whites, unless all the tribes assent to it," said he, in part. "I admit that I attempted to kill the chief who signed the Fort Wayne treaty, and, therefore, I will have my own war chiefs, in future, manage the affairs of our people, and not the village chiefs. You Americans have driven the Indians from the seacoast to where we now stand, and you will soon drive us into the lakes. I will not make war upon your bluecoats, but, if you push further into our country, I cannot hold back my followers from the slaughter of your people." He then made a summary of the wrongs which his red followers had suffered at the hands of the whites, and, as he spoke, his warriors nodded their heads in approval, saying: "Ugh! Ugh! It is the truth!"

When the great Indian leader had finished his oration, he turned to seat himself, but no chair was there, and his face showed annoyance at this seeming discourtesy. Appreciating the expression upon his countenance, Governor Harrison immediately ordered a chair to be brought him, and, as the interpreter handed it to the celebrated warrior, he remarked: "Your father requests you to be seated."

Fire flashed from the beady eyes of Tecumseh, as he exclaimed in a loud tone:

"My father, eh? The sun is my father, and the earth is my mother. On her bosom I will repose," and, drawing his brilliant blanket around him, with great dignity, he seated himself among his warriors upon the ground.

Not at all disturbed by this tart reply, Harrison continued: "You Indians are not one nation, and do not, in common, own this territory. The Miamis have been the real owners of the tract on the Wabash, which the United States has secured during the late treaty, and you Shawnees have no right to interfere with their actions. Upon the arrival of the whites in this country they found the Miamis in possession of the land, and you Shawnees lived in Georgia, from whence you were driven by the Creeks. It is absurd to say that you Indians constitute one nation, for if the Great Spirit had so willed it, he would not have given different languages to the different tribes."

As the interpreter told this to Tecumseh, his eyes began to snap angrily. Then, springing to his feet, he started to gesticulate wildly and to talk in loud, vicious tones. "What is he saying?" asked the Governor of the interpreter, but a General who understood the Shawnee language replied: "These red devils mean mischief, Governor, be upon your guard."

No sooner had he ceased speaking than all the painted warriors grasped their tomahawks, leaped to their feet, and looked angrily and vindictively at the Governor. Harrison sprang from his chair, drew his sword, and held it before him. As he did so, a friendly chief, who stood near by, pulled out his pistol, and a Captain of the troops seized a dirk and held it pointed towards the savages. The citizens who were present and who had no arms, took up clubs and pieces of the tables and chairs, while a minister of the Gospel, the Rev. Mr. Winans, ran to the Governor's house, seized a musket, and stood at the doorway to defend his family. The Indians took no move forward, but were all prepared for an attack, should Tecumseh give the word. They stood quietly until numerous soldiers ran up and pointed their loaded muskets at them, and Harrison cried out: "Cease this demonstration! Put down those guns!" Then, turning to the interpreter, he continued: "What is the meaning of this? Ask yonder Indian leader."

"All that you have said is false," cried Tecumseh. "You and the Seventeen Fires (States) have cheated and imposed upon the Indians."

"You are a bad man," Harrison replied through the interpreter. "I will have nothing more to do with you. Since you have come here for a council, you can go to your canoes in safety, but you must immediately leave my village."

When the Indians heard this message, they turned around sullenly and departed in the direction of their boats, while the soldiers kept their guns cocked until they were out of sight. It had been an exciting episode, and the citizens breathed a sigh of relief as they saw the painted warriors disappearing through the woods. As night fell, Harrison had two companies of militia brought into the town, and ordered the men to sleep on their arms, as the Indians would undoubtedly make an attack. But none came, and all were much surprised the next day to see a Shawnee runner come into the streets of the town with a note from Tecumseh, begging for another interview. "Certain white men have told me to defy the power of the United States," wrote the Shawnee, "and I do not intend to attack either town or soldiers." Pleased by this pacific message, Harrison granted another interview, so the crafty chief of the Shawnees soon put in an appearance, attended by the same retinue as before. He was now calm, and conducted himself with courtesy and consideration.

After a lengthy conversation, the Governor said: "You know, great chief, that the mighty father of the white men in Washington has decreed that these lands which we have purchased from the Miamis be surveyed. Will you oppose our surveyors when we send them into this country?"

Tecumseh's eye flashed fire, as he replied, through the interpreter: "Nothing can shake the determination of myself and my followers to insist upon the old boundary between your land and ours, before you made this purchase from the Miamis."

He sat down amidst a chorus of "Hows!" from the chiefs assembled, and then the leading sachems of the Wyandots, Pottawatomies, Ottawas and Winnebagos arose, and each, in turn, said that he entered in league with Tecumseh and the Shawnees, and would help them to repel any advance of the whites beyond the Wabash River.

"I will make known your decision to the Great Father in Washington," said Harrison, "and I am certain that Tecumseh's claim to the land will never be acknowledged, as the land has been bought by us from the original owners, the Miamis, who had a perfect right to sell it." The council now ended.

Next day the Governor visited Tecumseh in his camp, and was received with great politeness by the great chief, who was very frank and open in stating his views. "The Seventeen Fires (United States) will soon drown all of my people," said he, with great feeling. "If your great father in Washington will agree to give up the lands which he has bought from the Miamis; will agree never to make a treaty for land without the consent of all of our allied tribes, and will consult with me as the spokesman of these tribes; I will be your ally in the war which I know will shortly take place with England. If you will not do this, I will join with my white brothers from Canada, who have sent me many messages asking for my assistance in warfare with your people."

"I will make your views known to the President," said Harrison, "but I know that he will not agree with them."

"Well," replied Tecumseh, "as the great chief is to settle the matter, I hope the Great Spirit will put enough sense into his head to cause him to give up the land. It is true that he is so far off that he will not be injured by the war. He will sit still in his own town and drink his wine, while you and I will have to fight it out."

The Governor looked grave. "You are right," he said. "We will soon be fighting each other. A good many will be killed on both sides, and there will be much suffering. I ask you to agree with me, Tecumseh, that there will be no capturing of women and children by your warriors, and no torture or ill treatment of those men that your warriors take as prisoners."

Tecumseh raised his hand aloft. "I will keep my people from these things," he exclaimed. "Tecumseh has never ill treated his prisoners, nor has it ever been done in his presence." So saying, he sat down, and Governor Harrison returned to his own troops, much satisfied with the manner in which he had been received.

As the great chief had said, war was soon to break out between the whites and redskins, and, seeing the probability of this, Tecumseh soon left upon a journey to the South, where he intended to visit the Choctaws, Creeks, Seminoles, and other tribes, and to ask their assistance in driving the white men from their territory. He had marvellous success. The Indians were infatuated by his persuasive eloquence and promised their allegiance to him and his cause. At Tuckabatchie, Alabama, he addressed the Creeks in a big council, but his remarks were not greeted with the same cordiality as elsewhere. The Indians, in fact, seemed to have no interest in the confederation which he begged them to join, so growing angry, Tecumseh stamped his foot upon the ground, and, looking at the principal Sachem, called Big Warrior, cried: "Your blood is white. You do not believe that the Great Spirit has sent me. You shall know that it is so. I leave Tuckabatchie directly, and shall go straight to Detroit. When I arrive there I will stamp on the ground with my foot and will shake down every house in Tuckabatchie."

This was certainly a wild threat, but the crafty Tecumseh knew what he was talking about, for he had heard from a white astrologer that an earthquake was soon to take place. The Creeks often talked over this threat, after the departure of the great Shawnee, and carefully reckoned upon the number of days that it would take him to get to Detroit. In course of time they estimated that he had arrived there, and, as they anxiously awaited the fulfillment of the threat, a terrible rumbling was heard, the earth rocked to and fro, the tepees and lodges trembled and shook, and suddenly many of them toppled over. Terrified and alarmed, the Creeks rushed wildly about, crying: "Tecumseh has arrived at Detroit. His threat has come true. We must join with him in his confederation or all will be lost." This was the historical earthquake of New Madrid or the Mississippi, which (according to tradition) took place upon the very day that Tecumseh reached Detroit. It secured for him a great and lasting reputation among the red men.

Shortly after this the Indians at Prophet's Town became very warlike and aggressive, so much so that Governor Harrison determined to send an armed force against them. Tecumseh was away, but his brother, Elsk-wata-wa (the Prophet), was a pretty good warrior, and was burning in hatred of the whites. He inspired his followers with many good thoughts; taught them to give up firewater (whiskey) and also to till the soil. But he also preached to them that they must kill off the whites if they could, and so stem their advance into the land once held by the redskins. On September 26, 1811, at the head of nine hundred troops, Harrison moved towards the encampment of these hostiles, and, after marching for six days, camped on the eastern shore of the Wabash River, two miles above the present city of Terre Haute. A log fortress of felled trees was here constructed, called Fort Harrison, and leaving a small guard here, the main army advanced along the Wabash River until it reached a broad stream, called the Vermillion. A blockhouse was erected to protect the boats and heavy baggage, and then the white troops pressed forward to a position three-quarters of a mile away from the Indian encampment at Prophet's Town. Harrison had moved warily and cautiously, with scouts out upon either side to warn him of ambuscades. The two fortifications in his rear were excellent protection should he be forced to retreat, while his soldiers and frontiersmen were well used to border warfare, and showed no such careless advancing as had the men under St. Clair.

Seven miles northeast of the present city of Lafayette, Indiana, the army camped upon a beautifully level stretch of ground, upon which was a belt of timber. In front lay a marshy prairie, stretching away to Prophet's Town, while on the right was another marshy strip, through which ran a small stream surrounded by willows and brushwood. It was a good position; higher than the surrounding country, dryer, and more healthful. Before the army had reached this place, the Governor had sent messengers to the Prophet, demanding that the various tribes which he had with him should return to their respective territories; that all stolen horses in their possession should be given up; and that all Indians who had murdered white settlers should be delivered over to justice. But these messengers (all friendly Indians) had nearly all been insulted and dismissed with contemptuous remarks about themselves and the Governor. Harrison was, therefore, eager to fall upon the red men and give them a sound thrashing--such a thrashing that they would not soon forget.

The soldiers reached this position about midday, and soon ambassadors came in from Prophet's Town with a request that they refrain from battle until the following day, when a peace talk could be had. Harrison consented to this, but was too wary to be caught napping, and made his men sleep in order of battle, with their muskets loaded beside them. The night was dark and rainy. Sentries were, therefore, carefully stationed upon every side of the American camp, and these were told to keep a sharp lookout for any approaching savage. As it was the sixth of November the air was crisp and chill, while the brown leaves of autumn littered the ground with a thick covering, which made it difficult for a foe to approach unobserved. Every officer and private was told exactly what to do, in case of an attack, and thus the little army of invasion rested, like a bulldog upon the leash, ready and prepared to make a spring.

A sentinel, well in advance of the American line, was looking intently across the wide sweep of prairie in the direction of Prophet's Town--shrouded in the murk of the early morning mist--when he saw something moving in the yellow grass. The blades bent to the right and left as if some animal were creeping through them, so the watchman became alarmed. Seizing his musket, he stooped down to peer through the reedy waste, and, as he did so, a tomahawk, hurled by an unseen hand, spun through the air and just missed his head. In a second, his gun was at his shoulder, and he fired at a dark object which he saw in the reeds before him. A wild warwhoop shrilled through the stillness, as he did so, and from all about, in the tall grass, the painted forms of red men leaped from their hiding places and rushed towards the sleeping camp. But they met a different reception than that which they had anticipated. The men who had been resting on their arms had, in a moment, seized their muskets, had formed in a line facing the enemy, and met the onrush of the savages with a volley of lead.

The attacking force consisted of between five and eight hundred warriors under White Loon, Stone Eater, and Winnemac. The Prophet had mixed a mysterious broth at a meeting of the Indians the night before, and had told his followers that one-half of Harrison's army was composed of dead men, and that the other half was made up of crazy soldiers. Encouraged by this, the Indians had begun to creep across the prairie in the direction of the American camp at four in the morning. The Prophet had also stated that the bullets of the Americans would rebound from the bodies of the red men, but this did not prove to be the case, for, as the mixed bands of warriors came onward, they were shot down by scores. Still, they attacked with terrible fury, and, armed with excellent short rifles which had been furnished them by the Indian traders, they did a great deal of damage to the American line. Soon the entire camp was surrounded by the redskins, who rushed forward with tremendous ferocity, and, where the soldiers formed hollow squares with their bayonets outward, the braves would throw themselves vindictively upon them and endeavor to knock them over with their tomahawks.

The only coward on the side of the Indians was the famous Prophet. While his followers were struggling desperately with the frontiersmen, he stood upon a small hill, well out of harm's way, and cried out encouragement to the Indians in a shrill and piercing voice. "Fight on, O my people," he kept repeating, "for it shall be as the Prophet has said. You will crush these white enemies." The sounds of his wailing could easily be heard by Harrison's men, and, although some of his warriors requested him to join them in battle, he did not seem as anxious to appear on the firing line as they had expected. His followers, on the other hand, fought most courageously, and threw themselves with desperation upon the unyielding American line. Harrison rode up and down among his men, cheering them on, and crying to them not to give in to the assaults of the redskins, and, although he usually mounted a white horse, in the confusion of the morning, he had seized one of another color. This probably saved his life, as the Indians knew that his usual mount was white and soon killed his own animal which a young lieutenant was riding. The rider also fell, pierced by a dozen well-directed bullets.

While the yells of the Indians were intermingled with the hoarse shouts of the rangers, the rattle of deer's hoofs was heard above the din, and, at this savage signal, the redskins retreated beyond rifle range. But they were not yet defeated, and soon formed for another onslaught, while the white soldiers re-arranged their own line, fixed bayonets, and reloaded, in anticipation of a second charge. "Give the redskins a dose of lead, first," commanded Harrison, "then at 'em with the bayonets. But keep in touch all along the line, and do not allow yourselves to get split up into small parties, which the red devils can surround!" His counsel was well heeded.

In a few moments the followers of the Prophet again rushed from the underbrush upon the extended line of the American rangers, and, although the savages had now departed from their usual custom of fighting behind cover, this was to do them no good. As they ran desperately against the now well-prepared men in buckskin, they were met with a murderous fire, for day was well advanced, and the white soldiers could see their gun sights. The roar from the rifles was continuous. The redskins fell to earth upon every side. Shrieks and groans of the wounded and dying men were intermingled with the coarse shouts of battle, as the forms of Indians and whites struggled and fell, locked in a deadly embrace beneath a cloud of drifting smoke, which hung above the battle ground.

But now the moment came for an advance of the buckskin-clad rangers. As at Waterloo when Wellington cried: "Up guards and at 'em!" Harrison called: "On, men! Give them the bayonet, and no quarter!" With a wild yell of enthusiasm the rangers started forward and ploughed into the masses of the redskins with a will. With sharp bayonet thrusts they cut down all who opposed them, for they struck out savagely, and hacked away like Cromwell's Ironsides. Nothing could stand up against such an onrush. The Indians wilted. They gave in. They turned. They ran. And the first to skip headlong across the yellow prairie was the far-famed Prophet, whose courage had oozed from him like water through a sieve. His prophecies had all gone wrong; his incantations had been worthless, and his influence among the red men had forever parted.