Chapter XII: Warrior and Knight (1)

BUCKONGAHELAS, THE DELAWARE CHIEF

Among the leading chiefs who took part in the decisive battle at Maumee Rapids, when General Wayne smashed the Indian confederacy, was Buckongahelas, a sachem of the Delaware tribe. He was an orator of ability and a military leader of skill, with a humanity not often shown by one of his race. He took the side of the British until his attitude was changed by a certain incident, soon to be related.

No missionaries toiled more faithfully among the red men than the Moravians, who suffered every kind of persecution, facing privations, trials, tortures, and the most painful of deaths in order to bring the children of the forest to a knowledge of the true faith. They met with much success, and founded a number of missions, where scores of red men proved by their lives their belief in the religion professed by the white men. Thriving settlements were founded by the Moravian missionaries. These people, by their gentle ways, often suffered from their own race, while others, like Buckongahelas, treated them with kindness and respect, even though he did not believe in their principles.

It cannot be denied that our forefathers on the frontier were often frightfully misused by the Indians. Many atrocities were too dreadful to be described. The winter of 1782 was marked by a number of cruelties at the hands of the Sandusky Indians. In revenge, a band of nearly a hundred men gathered on the frontier of Pennsylvania, and, led by Colonel David Williamson, marched against the Christian Indians at Gnadenhutten, a missionary settlement. Friendly messengers were sent to warn them of their danger, but, sad to say, they arrived too late. In March, 1782, ninety-six men, women and children, while singing hymns and praying, were slain by this company of white men, not one of whom ever was punished for the crime.

A few months before this awful crime, two Christian Indians of Gnadenhutten went out into the woods to look for some estray horses. They had not gone far, when they met a chieftain at the head of eighty warriors. The Christians were made prisoners without explanation. Then the band took a roundabout course through the forest, until near the settlement, when they went into a secret camp, keeping the captives lest they should escape and give the alarm. Early the next morning, the town was surrounded so that none could leave, and the leader of the war party shouted to the frightened people that they must give up their chief and principal councillors, either alive or dead.

The leader named the men he wanted and was determined to have, but the Christians replied that it chanced that every one was absent, having gone to Pittsburg some days before. The visitors searched each house from attic to cellar, and found they had been told the truth. Then the chief ordered that the leading men remaining in Gnadenhutten and Salem should appear before him to hear what he had to say. When they had assembled, he spoke:

"Friends, listen to what I say. You see a great and powerful nation divided. The father (the King) has called on his Indian children to help him in punishing his children, the Americans, who have become stubborn and will not obey him. Friends, often has the father been obliged to settle and make amends for the wrongs and mischiefs done to us, by his evil children, yet these children do not grow any better! They remain the same and will remain the same so long as there is left any land of which they can rob us. Listen to me and hear what I have to say. I have come to bid you arise and go with me to a safe place. I will take you to a country (the Miami), where your fields shall yield you abundant crops and where your cattle shall find plenty of pasture; where there is much game; where your women and children, together with yourselves, will live in peace and safety; where no Long Knife" (meaning the sword and bayonet of the colonists) "shall ever disturb you. Nay; I will live between you and them, and not even allow them to frighten you. There you can worship your God without fear. Here where you live you cannot do so. Think on what I have said to you and believe that if you stay where you are, very soon the Long Knives will talk to you with fine words, and while they are talking they will kill you all."

The chief who uttered this warning was Buckongahelas, and he was honest in his wish to take the gentle people with him, to where they would escape the danger to which he knew they were exposed. They thanked him but declined his offer, believing that their principles and goodly lives were so well known that no one would harm them. The chief then asked that those who wished to leave should be allowed to do so. This was agreed to and a few left. How true the words of the good man were was proven soon after when the massacre named occurred!

Buckongahelas next went to Salem. The following account is by Heckewelder who was present:

"The Christian Indians," said the chieftain, "were a happy people and he would never trouble them on account of their not joining in the war. Indeed they could not with propriety join in wars, without first renouncing praying," (meaning Christianity). "And every Indian, or body of Indians, had a right to chose for themselves, whom they should serve. For him, he had hired himself to his father, the king of England, for the purpose of fighting his refractory children, the Long Knives, whilst his friends and relations, the Christian Indians, had hired themselves to the Great Spirit, solely for the purpose of performing prayers," (meaning attending to religion). "He added that both were right in their way, though both employments could not be connected together. And only yesterday they were told, while at Gnadenhutten, that God had instructed all Christian people to _love_ their enemies, and even to pray for them. These words, he said, were written in the large book that contained the words and commandments of God! Now, how would it appear, were we to compel our friends, who love and pray for their enemies to fight against them--compel them to act contrary to what they believe to be right--force them to do that by which they would incur the displeasure of the Great Spirit, and bring his wrath upon them? It would be as wrong in him to compel the Christian Indians to quit praying and to turn out and kill people, as it would be in them to compel him to lay fighting aside, and turn to praying only."

Did Indian or white man ever utter nobler sentiments? Buckongahelas was not a Christian, and he claimed the right belonging to every one, to think for himself and to form his own judgment, but he did that which many, who may profess the same principles, are unable to do; he accepted just as fully the right of every one else to do the same. He complimented the principles of the Christians, for he respected them and, as has been already said, his only wish was to befriend and save them from the cruelty of the white man. He knew better than they that no trust could be placed in those of the other race, and sad indeed was it for the Moravian Christians that they did not act upon his own counsel.

Before entering Salem, the chief made all his warriors leave their guns behind, so as not to alarm their hosts. When ready to leave, he turned and addressed the assembled Christians thanking them for their hospitality, and assuring them that they could always depend upon his steadfast friendship.

The following incident will illustrate a peculiar phase of the character of this remarkable man:

One of the most noted scouts connected with Colonel Brodhead's army, and afterward with Harmar, St. Clair and Wayne, was an Irishman named Murphy. He was a rollicking fellow, with all the wit and waggery of his people, brave to the last degree, and a master of woodcraft. Some of the exploits with which he is credited sound incredible. No Indian could follow a shadowy trail through the woods more truly, and few were his equal in resources and quickness to see the right thing to do in a crisis. He was tall, bony, homely of feature, with a shock of fiery red hair and a freckled countenance. With many, his greatest gift was his fleetness of foot. In all the races in which he engaged he never met his superior. Simon Kenton, who, in his prime, could run like a deer, said Murphy was able to lead every one else.

This point became well known to the Indians, and many of them put forth their utmost efforts to capture him. Aware of the valuable help he gave to the whites, they would have given much to lay hands on him. He had slain and scalped (sad to say that barbarous practice was not confined to the red men) some of their most noted warriors, and there would have been general rejoicing among all the tribes could the means be found to check his destroying career.

Well, disaster came to Murphy at last. He had a hard fight with three Delawares, one summer afternoon, in the depths of the wilderness. He shot one, wounded the second, and would have gotten away as usual, but at the critical moment, a score of bucks arrived on the spot, surrounded and made him prisoner. When the grinning captors closed about him, Murphy threw up his hands and asked them to be considerate as he had wrenched his ankle, and was barely able to stand. His appeal was useless, for they beat him unmercifully, and forced him to keep pace with them, though he limped so badly that at times he actually hopped forward on one foot. But the plucky fellow gritted his teeth, bore their blows unflinchingly, and, seemingly more dead than alive, finally reached the Delaware villages, where his coming caused great excitement and rejoicing.

It was early in the afternoon, and a discussion immediately took place as to how the prize should be disposed of. The majority favored burning him at the stake; but Buckongahelas had stopped that inhuman practice, and would not listen to anything of the kind. Other savage pleasantries were suggested, all of which the chief vetoed, in several cases being backed by some of the leaders. Finally, some one proposed that the captive should run the gauntlet.

The grim fiendishness of this will be understood when the lameness of poor Murphy is remembered. All through the talk, he was standing in the background on one foot, his rugged face twitching with the pain he could not keep back. Buckongahelas would have interfered, had he not known that it was useless. There was a point beyond which he could not hold his warriors. He had denied them their favorite pastime, and even he could not say that they should be robbed of every form of amusement. There was not a warrior among the howling throng who did not know the scout who had wrought them so much evil, and upon whom they had tried so long to lay hands. The chieftain nodded his consent to their proposal.

Murphy was familiar enough with the Delaware tongue to understand the decision that had been reached. He was too sensible to protest and silently nerved himself for the dreaded ordeal soon to come.

The Delawares made their preparations with the enthusiasm of so many boys, while those who were not to take part chuckled with delight. The persecutors formed in two rows, facing each other, with hardly a dozen feet of space between. In each row were twenty-eight warriors and squaws, separated by slightly less distance. The arrangement was meant to give each one just enough room to swing his or her arms with freedom.

Thus, as will be seen, Murphy was doomed to run over a path nearly a hundred yards in length, and between two rows of persecutors, all eagerly waiting for him to come nigh enough for them to reach him with the clubs in their itching hands. They had laid their guns aside, and every one was armed with a heavy stick, which he meant to bring down with a vicious energy that would hurl the poor fellow to the ground, if the implement once reached its mark.

Behind these rows of exultant redskins were grouped the other members of the tribe, to the extent of several hundred. Barbarous as were the warriors, the squaws were worse, if that was possible, and the dancing children were as eager as their elders to see the white man pounded to death.

One of the Delawares took Murphy by the arm and led him to the head of the line. He limped so heavily that he barely touched the ground with the tip of one foot. He was seen to shut his lips and shake his head, as if to force back his suffering and to brace himself for the trial before him. But he did not utter a word; it was useless.

At the head of the line on his right, was stationed a warrior whom he recognized as one of his captors and his chief persecutor. He was large and inclined to corpulency, but his painted face was ugly to the last degree. He had struck the captive on the way to the village, and had subjected him to many indignities. Now he took a place which gave him the first chance to reach the helpless prisoner, and there can be no doubt that he meant to leave no work to be done by the others in the lines.

Murphy looked down the long path, and, like many situations of danger, spat on his palms and rubbed them together, as if the action gave more nerve and strength to him. All were waiting, shifting about and toying with their clubs, impatient for the amusement to open. Buckongahelas stood several rods to the rear of one of the lines, well beyond it, watching proceedings. He did not add to the turmoil, but with his arms folded over his massive chest, studied the prisoner, regarding whom he held a singular suspicion which he kept to himself.

Suddenly Murphy gathered his energies for the test. He leaned forward with his left foot advanced, and most of his weight resting on it, after the manner of the professional runner. This largely relieved the other ankle of the weight of his body. With his arms crooked at the elbows and held close to his sides, he suddenly lowered his head and shot forward as if propelled from a cannon.

The instant he did so, the suspicion of Buckongahelas became certainty. All trace of lameness vanished! Both legs were as sound as ever, and had been from the first.

But Hercules himself could not have run the length of those lines, between the rows of tormentors, and Murphy had never a thought of trying anything of the kind. With a quick turn to the right, and, when going at the height of his great speed, the top of his head struck his chief tormentor in the stomach, with an impact like that of a catapult. The life was almost knocked from his body, as he went over on his back, his moccasins kicking the air. Like a cat, Murphy leaped over the form, and with a burst of his wonderful fleetness, dashed for the nearest point in the woods.

This took him towards the spot where Buckongahelas was standing. The chief could have headed him off without trouble, but, instead of doing so, he stepped aside to make way for him. The confusion caused by the captive's break for freedom gave him the very chance needed. Among the spectators were many who had guns in their hands and several fired wildly at the fugitive, but the majority of the men who formed the double line, sped after him, with a view of recapture, and the carrying out of their amusement so suddenly interrupted by his escape.

In a few seconds, Murphy was among the trees and going with the speed of the wind. It was impossible to gain a fair shot at him, when it was seen that he was rapidly increasing the distance between him and his pursuers. Sooner than would be supposed, he was beyond danger, and the next day rejoined his friends.

Some years later, when peace had come to the frontier, Murphy and Buckongahelas met at one of the forts, and, in the course of their talk, the incident just told was recalled. Both laughed over the remembrance, and the chief told the scout that he suspected from the first that his lameness was a pretence, and he thought it strange that none of the warriors shared his belief.

"I was glad when you got away," said the Delaware.

"I observed that ye stepped aside to give me room to pass, without losing any time in doing the same," said the grinning Irishman; "I knowed ye was my friend, which is why I headed toward yersilf."

When the league of Indians was defeated by General Wayne at Maumee Rapids, they fled for refuge to the British post near at hand. The commandant had promised them that, if they were repelled, he would give them shelter. But Wayne frightened him, and he closed the gates against the fugitives, and allowed many to be cut down.

Buckongahelas was so angered by this breach of faith that his principles changed. He refused longer to trust the English, for whom he had bravely fought, became the warm friend of the Americans, and urged his countrymen to do the same. He had all the qualifications of a great hero.

A FAMOUS MOHAWK CHIEF

ADVENTURES OF BRANDT, THE HALF-BREED

Colonel Joseph Brandt, whose Indian name was Thayendenaga, was a chieftain of the Mohawk tribe. He was in fact a half-breed, who lived and acted so like the red men that few are aware of his mongrel blood. He was born about 1745, and was placed by Sir William Johnson in a school at Lebanon, Connecticut, where he received a fair education. On the eve of the Revolution, he went to England, was presented to King George III. and attracted much notice. A peculiar trait of Brandt was that he always managed to draw much attention to himself. He formed a strong liking for the English, and made up his mind to do all he could for them in the war that was about to open. He was given a colonel's commission in the British army on the frontiers, and soon after returned to America to link his name with some of the most shameful events in the West. Associated with Brandt were two Tories who were worse miscreants than he; these were John Butler and Walter his son, who lived a few miles from Johnstown, in New York, which was the home of Brandt.

Brandt acted as the secretary of Colonel Guy Johnson, son-in-law of Sir William Johnson, who died in 1774. When Guy Johnson, alarmed for his own safety, fled to Canada, Brandt and the two Butlers went with him. There, where they were safe, they hatched their plots for injuring the Americans. Brandt soon fell out with Johnson, and he and the Butlers returned to New York.

In order clearly to understand the events that follow, we must glance at the status of the struggle of the colonies for independence. England formed a plan in 1777, for crushing the uprising by means of the most formidable campaign that had yet been set on foot. This was to send Burgoyne, with his large army from Canada, and open communication between that province and the city of New York, thereby cutting off New England from the rest of the colonies. If this plan could be carried out, Burgoyne's powerful army would be forced like a stupendous wedge between the two sections, and a fatal blow given to the struggle for liberty.

This campaign provided for the advance of Burgoyne to Albany, where he was to meet a large force sent up the Hudson from New York. This is not the place to describe the failure of the important movement, ending in the capture of Burgoyne and his whole army.

A part of this great scheme was that Colonel Barry St. Leger was to go up the St. Lawrence to Lake Ontario, and thence to Albany by the Mohawk River. His command was composed mostly of Tories and Indians, and Brandt and the Butlers were with him. Early in June, Brandt gathered his Mohawks together and made ready to strike a blow for the English. General Nicholas Herkimer in command of the Tryon County militia, was ordered to check Brandt. He set out to relieve Fort Stanwix (also called Fort Schuyler), which was besieged by a large number of British, Canadians, Tories and Indians. Most of these marched to meet Herkimer, of whose approach they had learned.

While marching in loose order through the woods at Oriskany, near Utica, Herkimer's militia were ambushed by the Tories and Indians. They were thrown into a panic and a large number shot down. A bullet killed Herkimer's horse and mortally wounded him. He propped himself on the ground with his back against a tree, lit his pipe and continued to give orders. The reports of the guns of a body of troops that had hurried out of the fort to the relief of the militia, alarmed the Indians who fled, the Tories quickly following them. General Herkimer was carried to his home, where he soon died from the effects of the wound.

The relief of Fort Stanwix was brought about by a curious piece of strategy. Schuyler, in command at the time of the campaign against Burgoyne, could hardly spare a man, and yet, unless relief was sent, the fort must fall. His officers opposed, for the reason named, and the angry Schuyler asked for some leader to volunteer. Benedict Arnold promptly offered, and at the head of eight hundred men, hastened toward the endangered post. Brave as was Arnold, he could not shut his eyes to the fact that his force could not compare in number with the Tories and Indians, and was more likely to fail than to succeed.

Reaching German Flats he found that one of the prisoners held by the Americans was a half-witted Tory, who had been condemned to death for some fault. He was hardly responsible for his acts, but was scared almost to death, and his mother was in an agony of distress over his fate. She sank on her knees before Arnold and prayed him to save her son. The officer consented on the single condition that the youth should do a certain thing for him. The joyous mother and boy declared that he had only to tell them what it was and it should be done.

"It is simple," explained Arnold, "you and a friendly Oneida Indian are to go to the camp of St. Leger and make him believe my force is twice as great as his, and that if he waits where he is, I shall kill them all."

The youth eagerly said he would do all that was required, and the plan was soon formed. Several bullets were fired through his clothes, and he dashed off as fast as he could speed through the woods. When he reached the enemy's camp a few miles away, he was so exhausted that he could hardly stand. Asked to explain what it all meant, he said he had just escaped from the Americans by the narrowest means possible, and as proof he showed the many bullet holes in his clothing.

Hardly was this explanation made when the Oneida ran in from another direction, with the same startling story. "The Americans are like the leaves on the trees," he said; "They will soon be here!"

It was enough. The terrified Indians broke in a wild flight for safer quarters, despite the efforts of their officers to check them. Inasmuch as they made up most of the force of the besiegers, the soldiers had nothing to do but follow them and thus the siege of Fort Stanwix was raised.

It seems strange that it did not occur to the underwitted Tory that, after reaching the camp of the besiegers, he might as well have told the truth, since he was beyond the reach of Arnold; but that officer probably gave him such a scare that it took him a long time to get over it. And it is likely the American commander played upon his fears regarding the safety of his mother, in case he betrayed his trust.

The next event in which Brandt figures is the tragedy at Wyoming, which occurred in the following July. Congress had been warned that a large force was gathering at Niagara for the purpose of desolating the frontiers of New York, Pennsylvania and Virginia, but that body had so much other business on hand it gave no attention to the appeal.

In the month of July, 1778, a Tory and Indian force to the number of sixteen hundred, marched against the lovely settlement. The people took refuge in a structure known as "Forty Fort," while the old men, boys, and a few veteran soldiers, who were home on furlough, ranged themselves for action.

Although the invaders were three times as numerous as the patriots, the latter had a fair chance of success in an open fight, for they were quite well armed, were led by good officers, and had the strongest inspiration that can come to men placed in their situation; they were about to fight, not for themselves alone, but for their wives and children. Before the opening of the battle, strong spirits were distributed among the defenders, and truth compels us to say that a number indulged too freely,--so much so that it helped in the defeat of the patriots. They were steadily gaining ground when an order was misunderstood and confusion followed. At that critical moment, the Indians made a charge, hopeless panic followed, and the historical Wyoming massacre began. Under a solemn pledge that no one should be harmed, the fort was surrendered: nearly all the garrison, as well as the women and children, perished by the tomahawk.

Some of the settlers were too wise to trust their lives to the plighted word of a Tory or Indian, and plunged into the forests on their way to the settlements of the Upper Delaware. Many sank down and died in the dismal solitudes which have ever since borne the name of the "Shades of Death." A few succeeded in reaching Stroudsburg and other points, but the awful woe suffered by Wyoming in the early days of July, 1778, will give the place a sad distinction so long as the history of our country is chronicled.

It was only four months later, that a body of seven hundred, most of whom were under Brandt, set out for Cherry Valley. Colonel Ichabod Alden was in command of this post, and was blamable for what followed. He was warned of the approach of Brandt and his men, and the settlers asked for shelter in the fort. He replied that he did not believe the danger was serious, and would send out scouts that would keep him informed of the movements of the enemy. The principal of these scouts found the November weather so chilly, that, after going a little way they kindled a fire, lay down and went to sleep. Brandt's scouts were drawn to the spot by the light, and captured every one of the men, who were compelled to give exact information of the fort and settlement. In the cold mist of the morning the enemy approached the post. Among the first victims was Colonel Alden, who was quartered outside the fort. The latter repelled several attacks, and the assailants took their departure with about forty prisoners, while fully as many had been put to death or mortally wounded.

When peace came and the independence of the United States was secured, Colonel Brandt did what he could to prevent hostilities by the Indians on the southern and western frontier. Much trouble resulted from the failure properly to fix the boundary between the United States and the Indian tribes. Brandt urged making the Ohio and the Muskingum such boundary, and, declared that, unless it was done, the Indians would go to war. He even said he would join them, but this must have been in the nature of intimidation, for though the red men took up the hatchet again, Brandt was at no time with them.

The king of England did not forget the services of his ally. He gave him a fine tract of land on the western side of Lake Ontario, where he made his home and lived after the English fashion. He had married a half-breed woman in the winter of 1779, by whom he had several children. She remained more of an Indian, however, than a white woman, and refused to conform to civilized life. After her husband's death (November 24, 1807), she removed to Grand River and spent the remainder of her days in a wigwam, taking some of her children with her and leaving others at their former home.

A remarkable piece of work by Brandt was the translation of John's Gospel and the Book of Common Prayer into the Mohawk language. Copies of these works may be found in the library of Harvard University.

A CHIEFTAIN ON THE WARPATH

ADVENTURES OF TECUMSEH, THE SHAWANOE

Tecumseh was an eloquent orator and a brilliant military leader. He was appointed a brigadier-general in the British army, and few or none of the English officers were his equal in all that goes to make a successful leader of men. He was a knightly foe, who never, so far as known, permitted the abuse of prisoners. Whilst yet in his teens and on the war path, he fought against the cruel practice and more than once forcibly prevented it. No man kept a promise more honorably than he. He was brave and self-restrained, and in many respects set an example for those who professed higher things.

A remarkable fact about Tecumseh is that he was born one of triplets. This was probably in 1770, his birthplace being on the Scioto, not far from Chillicothe. He is authority for the statement that his mother was a Cherokee, who was taken prisoner during the war between that tribe and the Shawanoes and was adopted by the latter. His father was one of the foremost warriors among his people.

When the flatboats going down the Ohio had to run the gauntlet of the hostile Indians along the shores, the youthful Tecumseh was among those who were most active in the attacks. It is said that while he was still a boy, he saw the torture of a white prisoner at the hands of his captors, and was so shocked that he vowed he would do all he could to break up the practice, and, as has been said, he kept his pledge.

Tecumseh was one of the hardest fighters at the battle of Maumee Rapids, where General Wayne smashed the Indian confederacy. He accepted the treaty of Greenville, and honorably lived up to its terms. Settling among his people, he became a hunter and fisherman, and seemed to think no more of warfare. The unharmed white man who met him in the depths of the forest had no cause to fear. Instead, the Shawanoe was ready to give him the help he might need, and would share the last pound of venison with him. The story is told of Tecumseh that he once entered the home of a white friend to spend the evening, the two having formed a liking for each other. The caller found another white man present--a stranger, to whom he was introduced. He gravely shook hands with the visitor, and sat down in a chair on the other side of the broad hearth.

Tecumseh must have been noted as a warrior even at that time, for when his name was spoken, the other caller plainly showed his fear. It was evident that he was much afraid of the Shawanoe, who was quick to note the fact. With a meaning glance at his friend, he began talking about the imaginary scalping expeditions from which he had just returned, and said he was anxious to add a few more ghastly trophies to his collection. This was kept up until the poor fellow was pale and trembling with fright. Then Tecumseh walked over to his chair, placed his hand on his shoulder and said, soothingly:

"Don't be scared; Tecumseh will not hurt you." The hearty laugh of the host showed the visitor that he had been made the victim of a joke by the Shawanoe chieftain.

Tecumseh must have given a great deal of thought, while still a youth, to his race and to the many injustices which it had suffered. The problem to him was as to how these wrongs could be righted, or rather, since many of them were beyond righting, how further wrongs could be stopped. Never did any one see more clearly than he, the full force of the truth that in union lies strength. The Indians were weak because, instead of uniting, they fought one another, and thereby invited their conquest by the invaders of their country. How different would have been the story had the red men stood together when the first European crossed the ocean!

Now, it must not be thought that this native genius was nerved by the ambition of Philip or Pontiac. The former dreamed of and strove for a confederacy that would destroy all the English settlements. When, at that distant day, these settlements were scattered and weak, he had good reason to believe he would succeed. As we know, his plot was sprung before he was ready, and Philip could not bring about the full union of the New England tribes.

The day for doing that had passed when the chieftain of the Ottawas came upon the stage of action. He tried to bring about an alliance with France and to destroy the western posts that had been turned over to England. He did capture a number, but failed because France would have nothing to do with him or his plans.

Tecumseh also believed that when war broke out between England and the United States, the former had a good chance of success. This belief he shared with the mother country herself, else she never would have begun the struggle. The Shawanoe knew that if the western tribes united to resist the Americans, they would get much better terms than if they fought separately. He bent all his energies to that difficult task.

History proves that when such an effort is set on foot, war is certain to follow. Such is the record of the past, for if union is strength, it must give that confidence which results in deeds. The activity of Tecumseh made Governor Harrison and the authorities in the West uneasy. What could be finer than the retort of the redoubtable Shawanoe, when it was asked of him:

"Why are you trying to bring about a union of the different Indian tribes?"

"For the same reason that _you_ have brought about a union of _your_ colonies; we never objected to that, and what business is it of yours what we do among ourselves? Besides, it is necessary that we should unite to save us from the scoundrels among the white men."

We have no authentic record of the opinion expressed in reply to these memorable words. Probably none was given.

The bringing together in friendship of the tribes who had been enemies for centuries was a herculean task. It called into play all the matchless abilities of Tecumseh. Even he could not succeed in every instance, though it is certain none could have done so well.

In this work, the Shawanoe chieftain used the two most powerful levers that can affect the Indian mind--superstition and eloquence. The Prophet was the spokesman of the former. He claimed to have had direct dealings with the Great Spirit and to utter his will. Many of his professions were grotesque to the last degree, and it may have been for that very reason that he gained hundreds of converts. Like some of the false prophets of modern days, he drew a mongrel set of disciples around him, who could be neither shamed nor argued out of their foolishness.

Tecumseh professed to believe in the supernatural power of his brother, and his example brought over many others. The master hand of the warrior could be seen in the labors of The Prophet, who began preaching about 1804. Some of his doctrines were good. He insisted that there must be a complete change in the conduct of the red children of the Great Spirit. They must quit copying the dress and manner of the white people; especially must they give up the use of ardent spirits, and all Indians must show by their lives that they were brothers and sisters. While there was impressive truth in his words about the long, happy, peaceful lives of their forefathers, such a reminder did not improve their feelings toward those who had brought about this change.

Tecumseh gave strong support to his brother in his mission. In some cases chiefs who opposed them were put to death, generally on the charge of witchcraft; in other instances, their power was taken away. While The Prophet gave all his efforts to preaching the new gospel, Tecumseh himself made a tour among the different tribes, winning many warriors and leaders to his views. That he had the encouragement of the English in this crusade cannot be denied. They saw as clearly as he that war was coming.

Now as to the real dispute between Tecumseh and the Americans; the Shawanoe insisted that no _single_ tribe had the legal or moral right to sell to our government the lands which it might chance to occupy. Such right lay in _all_ the tribes, whose consent was necessary in order to make such sale binding. Several large cessions had already been made and treaties signed in which these terms had been violated. Tecumseh declared that these lands belonged to the _whole Indian population_, that such fact should be admitted by our government and the sales cancelled, the transfer still depending upon the consent of _all_ the tribes.

It will be seen that this view could not be accepted by our government, for if it were, there never could be any real sales, and everything that had already taken place in that respect went for nothing.

Governor Harrison of Vincennes had a delicate and hard task before him. It has been said that his government would never allow him to accept the views of Tecumseh, and he saw the time had come for plain words. He reminded the chieftain that when the white people came to take this continent, they found the Miamis occupying all the country on the Wabash, but the Shawanoes at that time lived in Georgia, from which they were driven by the Creeks. The lands had been bought from the Miamis, who were the first and real owners of it, and the only ones having a clear right to sell the lands. It was untrue to say that all the Indian tribes formed one nation, for if such had been the intention of the Great Spirit he would have given them the same language to speak, instead of so many different ones. The Miamis had thought it best for their interest to sell a part of their lands, thereby securing another annuity and the Shawanoes had no right to come from a distant country and compel the Miamis to do as the Shawanoes wished them to do.

The governor having taken his seat, the interpreter began explaining to Tecumseh what had been said by him. Before he was through, and as soon as the chieftain caught the gist of the words, he sprang to his feet in anger and exclaimed, "It is false!" His warriors leaped from the grass on which they had been sitting, and grasped their weapons. Believing he was about to be attacked, the governor drew his sword and stood ready to defend himself. He was surrounded by more of his own people than there were Indians present, but they were unarmed. They snatched up stones and clubs ready to make the best fight they could. Major Floyd, standing near the governor drew his dirk, and a Methodist minister ran to the governor's house, and, catching up a gun, placed himself in the doorway to defend the family. One of the chiefs close to the governor, cocked his pistol which he had already primed, saying, that Tecumseh had threatened his life, because he signed the treaty and sale of the disputed land. Governor Harrison told the interpreter to say to Tecumseh that he would have nothing more to do with him. He was ordered to leave, but, instead of doing so, he remained in the neighborhood with his chiefs until the next morning, when he sent an apology to the executive, pledging himself that nothing of the kind should occur again. Harrison accepted his explanation, and met him a second time. On this occasion, Tecumseh was dignified and courteous, but it was evident that he was under strong emotion. Having no new argument to offer, the plain question was put to him whether he intended to oppose the survey of the newly-bought territory. He replied that he would cling to the old boundary. The leading chiefs with him rose to their feet, one after another, and gave notice that they would stand by Tecumseh. The governor promised the Shawanoe that his words should be told to the President, but he added that it would be useless, for the land would never be given up.

Governor Harrison, hoping he could do something in a private talk, went with his interpreter to the tent of Tecumseh. He was received kindly and the two conversed for a long time, each strongly urging his views upon the other. The chieftain said he would much rather be a friend of the United States than an enemy. He knew that war between them and England would soon come, and he would greatly prefer to fight on the side of the Americans. He would do so, if his views regarding the lands were accepted.

"I repeat what I said that that will never be done, and it would be wrong in me to hold out any hope for you in that respect," replied the governor.

"Well, as the great chief in Washington is to settle the question, I hope the Great Spirit will put some sense in his head. But he is so far off he will never be harmed by the war; he can sit down and feast and drink his wine while you and I fight it out."

"Is it your determination to make war if your terms are refused?"

"It is," replied Tecumseh; "nor will I give rest to my feet, till I have united all the red men in a like resolution."

The unusual fact about these talks was the frankness with which Tecumseh gave his views. He never made the slightest effort to hide his intentions, nor would he utter any promise which he did not mean to keep. He and Governor Harrison had several interviews, but it was impossible to shake the resolution of the Shawanoe. At one of the councils, he turned to rest himself, after finishing his speech, when he saw that no chair had been placed for him. Apologizing, the governor had one hastily brought, and as it was handed to the chief, the interpreter said: "Your father requests you to take a chair."

"My father," replied Tecumseh, with dignity, "the sun is my father, and the earth is my mother; I will repose on her bosom," and he seated himself upon the ground.

Harrison finally gave over his attempt to change the views or resolution of Tecumseh. Before the final parting of the two, the governor said to him:

"We shall 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 shall be no capturing of women and children by your warriors, and no torture or ill treatment of such men as you may take prisoners."

"Tecumseh has _never_ ill treated his prisoners, nor has it ever been done in his presence," was the answer of the chieftain; "why do you ask me to do that which you know I will be sure to do without the asking."

Harrison pleaded his anxiety, and thanked Tecumseh for his pledge, which he knew would be strictly kept.

The declaration of the chief that he would give his feet no rest until he united all the red men was carried out. His travels and labors were prodigious. During the year 1811, he visited numerous tribes west of the Mississippi, and about Lakes Superior and Huron, not once, but several times, thrilling all by his eloquence and winning hundreds to his side. Regarding this tour, the following incident is authentic, though since it must have been a coincidence, it certainly was one of the most remarkable ever known.

While making one of his appeals to the Creeks, Tecumseh lost patience with their coldness. He shouted angrily:

"When I go back to my people, I will stamp the ground and the earth shall shake!"

It was just about time for the chieftain to reach his towns to the north, when the New Madrid earthquake took place, the severest phenomenon of the kind which up to that time our country had ever known. When the Creeks felt the ground rocking under their feet, they ran from their tepees shouting in terror:

"Tecumseh has got home! Tecumseh has got home!"

While the chieftain was absent on this tour, The Prophet was busy with his magic. He made the wildest prophecies, and hundreds of his superstitious countrymen believed that, as he claimed, he was in direct communion with the Great Spirit. The Prophet told them the Indians should soon be given back their former hunting grounds and all the pale faces should be driven into the sea. Fired by these promises, the fanatical warriors gathered around The Prophet and began committing outrages upon the whites. The government could not refuse to go to the protection of its citizens. A small force of regulars and militia was brought together at Vincennes, the capital, and placed under the command of Governor Harrison, who was given a free hand to do all he might think necessary.

No better officer could have been chosen. United to his fine military talent, he had a thorough knowledge of Indian character, and was safe against any such blunders as had been committed by St. Clair, Harmar and others. Marching into the Indian country, he encamped, early in November, within nine miles of The Prophet's town. The redskins did not disturb him, and he pushed three miles further. He sent forward his interpreters, but the Indians refused to have anything to do with them.

Certain that treachery was intended, the governor moved with the utmost care. He was pleased when he was not attacked on the way to the town, which he reached without the firing of a shot. Still the Indians refused to receive or make any replies to the calls of his interpreters. Harrison formed his line of battle and was advancing upon the town, when several messengers of The Prophet appeared. An interview was held, in which they asked that no attack should be made before the morrow, when the principal chiefs would visit Harrison with proposals for peace.

That officer was not deceived. The men slept on their arms, the guards were strengthened, and nothing was neglected that could prevent surprise. Every officer and private knew just what to do, in the event of an attack, and it maybe doubted whether there was a soldier in the army who did not feel sure such an attack would soon be made.

Just as it was growing light, on the morning of November 7, 1811, the Indians made a furious charge upon the camp. The fight was one of the most desperate in the history of our frontier. But for the preparation, the coolness and bravery, and the fine generalship of commander and officers, all the force would have been destroyed. As it was, the Americans lost sixty-two killed and one hundred and twenty-five wounded, among whom were some of the bravest officers. The loss of the Indians was about one hundred and fifty. They were routed and driven headlong from the field.

While the battle was raging, The Prophet stood on a neighboring hill, keeping up his frenzied performance. He shouted to the warriors that victory was certain, and none of the enemy's bullets could hurt them. Told that his people were falling, he urged the others to keep on fighting, declared all would come out right and sang his war songs louder than ever; but when the final overthrow took place, The Prophet led in the flight. He was soon left alone by his men, who lost faith in his claims. Two days later, Governor Harrison laid the town and surrounding settlements in ashes, sending the hostiles scurrying in every direction, after which he returned to Vincennes.

The victory of Harrison could not have been more complete. It won the admiration of his countrymen, and had more than anything else to do with his nomination and election to the presidency of the United States. Nearly thirty years later, the cry of "Tippecanoe and Tyler too," swept the country like wildfire, and roused an ardor the like of which had never been seen before.

As we know, Tecumseh was absent on his "stumping tour" when the battle of Tippecanoe was fought. It was contrary to his orders, and overturned all his plans. When he came back and learned what had been done, his rage was fearful. He seized his brother by his long hair, and almost shook his head off, declaring that he deserved death and he was tempted to inflict it.

Tecumseh gave his eloquence and energies to rallying the different tribes, after they had fallen away through the blundering of The Prophet. He visited them all again, and won not hundreds but thousands to his standard. With these, he entered the service of the British when war broke out between England and our country. Hardly a battle took place in the West, down to the death of the Shawanoe, in which he did not act a creditable part. His military ability was so notable that he was made a brigadier general, and, as has been said, there was no white officer of that rank who was his superior, if indeed any one was his equal. When asked one day to give an idea of the face of the country through which they were marching, he took a piece of elm bark, laid it on the ground, with a heavy stone on each corner to hold it flat, and with the point of his hunting knife, traced a map, which the English engineers declared could not be surpassed by any of their number.

One day General Proctor was sitting on his horse calmly watching a number of Indians that were maltreating several American prisoners. Although claiming to be civilized and guided by the rules of honorable warfare, the commander smiled, as if the sight was as pleasing to him as to the dusky persecutors.

In the midst of the cruel pastime the sound of a galloping horse was heard, and the animal was reined up on his haunches within a few feet of the general. At the same instant Tecumseh leaped from his back to the ground, grasped the principal tormentor by the throat, hurled him backward a dozen feet, struck another a blow that almost fractured his skull, and with his face flaming with passion, whipped out his hunting knife, and shouted that he would kill the first one who laid hands on another prisoner.

Turning to General Proctor, he demanded with angry voice and flashing eyes:

"What do you mean by permitting such things?"

"Sir, your warriors cannot be restrained," was the reply.

With burning scorn, Tecumseh said:

"You are not fit to command; go home and put on petticoats!"

Commodore Perry won his great victory over the British fleet on Lake Erie, September 10, 1813. Had he failed, it was the plan of the British army in the West to invade Ohio. If he won, General Harrison meant to invade Canada. As soon as he learned of the victory, told to him by Perry's message, "We have met the enemy and they are ours," he lost no time in invading Canada. He embarked at Sandusky Bay, September 27, and landed near Malden. Proctor retreated to Sandwich with the Americans closely pressing him. Instead of giving battle, the British commander kept up his retreat to the Thames.