—The night attack on Harrison's forces.—The destruction of Tecumseh's Confederacy.

An inverted flatiron pointing to the east of south—that is the battle ground of Tippecanoe. The western edge is the sheer bank of Burnet's Creek. A savage would have some difficulty in climbing there. Back of the creek is a low marsh, filled with cat-tails and long grass. The surface of the flatiron is a sandy plain with scattering oaks, and sloping towards the east. At the north the plain widens, but comes to an abrupt point at the southern end. To the east and in the direction of the Prophet's Town is a wet prairie. The Kickapoos said that Harrison's choice of a camping place was excellent.

Late in the evening the army arrives and takes up its position. Axes are scarce and there is no time to erect a breastwork of trees. Firewood must be cut to warm the shivering troops. The militia have no tents and blankets are scarce. Low scudding clouds betoken a cold November rain. The regulars are split into two battalions of four companies each. One is placed on the left front facing the east. This is under the command of Major George Rogers Clark Floyd. Under him are the companies of Baen, Snelling and Prescott, and a small company of United States riflemen armed with muskets. On his right are two companies of Indiana militia commanded by Lieutenant-Colonel Joseph Bartholomew. The second battalion of regulars is placed in the left rear and is commanded by Captain William C. Baen, acting as major. To the right of this battalion are four companies of Indiana militia, commanded by Captains Josiah Snelling, Jr., John Posey, Thomas Scott and Jacob Warrick, all of whom are under the leadership of Lieutenant-Colonel Luke Decker. Warrick's company is in the southwestern corner of the camp, and next to the mounted riflemen under Spencer. The left flank is filled up by two companies of mounted riflemen under the command of Major-General Samuel Wells, of the Kentucky militia, acting as major. Back of these riflemen are two troops of dragoons under Major Joseph Hamilton Daviess, and in the rear of the front lines are the Light Dragoons of Vincennes, led by Captain Benjamin Parke. The right flank is made up of the famous Yellow Jackets of Harrison county, Indiana. They wear yellow flannel hunting shirts with a red fringe and hats with red plumes. Their officers are Captain Spier Spencer, sheriff of his county; First-Lieutenant Richard McMahan, Second-Lieutenant Thomas Berry, and Ensign John Tipton. Spencer is of a Kentucky family, his mother has been an Indian captive when a girl, and his fourteen year old son accompanies him on the expedition, bearing a rifle. The distance between the front and rear lines on the left flank is about one hundred and fifty yards, and something more than half that distance on the right flank. In the center of the camp are the headquarters of the Governor, the wagons and baggage, and the beef cattle.

Night is now coming on apace and the great camp fires of the army shed a cheerful glow on men and horses, arms and accouterments. Harrison is watchful. While neither he nor his officers expect a night attack, still he bears in mind that he is in the heart of the Indian country and only a mile and a quarter from the Prophet's village. A council of the officers is held and all placed in readiness for instant action. The camp, in form, is an irregular parallelogram, and troops may be rushed to at once reinforce any point assailed. The troops are formed in single rank and maneuver easily—extension of the lines is readily accomplished. The order of encampment is the order of battle. Every man must sleep opposite his post. In case of attack the soldiers are to arise, step to the rear of the fires, and instantly form in line. The line thus formed is to hold its ground until further relieved. The dragoons are to parade dismounted, with their pistols in their belts, and to act as a corps de reserve. The whole camp is surrounded by two captains' guards, each consisting of four non-commissioned officers and forty-two men, and two subalterns' guards, of twenty non-commissioned officers and privates. The regulars retire with accouterments on, and their arms by their sides. The tired militia, having no tents, sleep with their arms under them to keep them dry. Captain Cook, of the Fourth Regiment records that he slept with his boots and great coat on, and with his trusty rifle clasped in his arms. The infantry bear cartridges each loaded with twelve buckshot. These are intended for a rain of death.

In the meantime, the fearful Prophet is filled with doubt. Now that the hour of destiny is at hand, his heart fails him. He counsels caution and a postponement of the fight. He urges that a treaty be entered into; a compliance made with the demands of the Governor, and that the Potawatomi murderers be surrendered up. The army must be thrown off its guard and a treacherous attack made on its return home. But the young men and warriors think otherwise. Has not the Prophet told them that the white man's bullets are harmless, and that his powder will turn to sand? Why hesitate? The army is now asleep and will never awake. Let the Magic Bowl be produced, the sacred torch and the "Medean fire." Let there be death to all!

At a quarter past four o'clock in the morning the Governor arises to pull on his boots. The moon is now obscured, and a drizzly rain is falling. The camp fires are still burning, but beyond the lines of sleeping men, all is darkness and gloom. The sentinels out there in the night are listening to strange sounds. Through the tall grass of the swamp lands terrible forms are creeping, like snakes on their bellies, towards the camp. The painted and feather-bedecked warriors of the Prophet are surrounding the army.

In two minutes more an aide is to awake the drummer and have him ready by the fire to beat the reveille, when all at once the attack begins. A sentinel, standing on the bank of Burnet's Creek near the northwestern angle of the camp, sees an object crawling on the ground. He fires and runs toward the line—the next moment he is shot down. With demon yells the savages burst upon the ranks of Captain Barton's company and Geiger's riflemen.In an instant the camp is alive and the men spring to arms, but there is no disorder or confusion. In Barton's company a sergeant and two privates are up renewing the fires, and immediately give the alarm. Two savages penetrate the camps but are killed within twenty yards of the line. A corporal in Barton's company is shot as he steps to the door of his tent. Another corporal and a private are killed and a sergeant wounded as the lines are forming, but immediately afterwards a heavy fire is opened and the charging red skins are driven back. The attack on the Kentuckians is particularly ferocious. A hand to hand fight ensues. One of Geiger's men loses his gun and the captain runs to his tent to get him another. He finds some savages there "ransacking its contents, and prodding their knives into everything." One of them attempts to kill the captain with a tomahawk, but is immediately slain.

At the first alarm the Governor calls for his white horse, but the shots and yells terrify that animal and he breaks his tether. Harrison now mounts a bay and rides to the first point of attack, Colonel Abraham Owen at his side. Owen is killed, a lock of the Governor's hair is cut away by a bullet, but he brings up Wentworth's company under Lieutenant George P. Peters, and Captain Joel Cook's from the rear line, and forms them across the angle in support of Barton and Geiger.

Nothing like this fury has ever been witnessed before. The rattling of dried deer hoofs and the shrieks of the warriors resound on every hand. In a few moments the fire extends along the whole front, both flanks, and a part of the rear line. The fierce Winnebagoes, with tall eagle feathers in their scalp locks, rush upon the bayonets, attempt to push them aside, and cut down the men. It avails them nothing. The iron discipline of the regulars holds them firm. On every hand the soldiers kick out the fires, re-load their guns and settle down to the fight.

In the first mad rushes, the company of David Robb posted on the left flank, gives way, or through some error in orders, retires to the center of the camp. Harrison sees the mistake on the instant and orders Snelling to cover the left flank. Snelling is alert, and at the first gun seizes his sword and forms his company into line. The dangerous gap is at once filled, and the companies close up. But a murderous fire now assails them on the front from behind some fallen logs and trees. Daviess with his dragoons is behind the lines, and impatient of restraint. Twice he asks the Governor for orders to charge—the third time a reluctant consent is given. The regulars open up, the brave Major with eight of his men pass through the ranks, and the next moment he is mortally wounded. Snelling's company with levelled bayonets clear the field.

Prodigies of valor are being performed on the right flank. Spencer is there and his famous Yellow Jackets. If the regulars have been valorous, the mounted riflemen of Harrison County have been brilliant. Harrison rides down and calls for the Captain. A slip of a boy answers: "He is dead, sir." "Where is your lieutenant?" "He is dead." "Where is your second lieutenant?" "He is dead." "Where is your ensign?" The answer came, "I am he." The General compliments him and tells him to hold the line. Spencer is wounded in the head, but exhorts his men to fight. He is shot through both thighs and falls, but from the ground encourages his men to stand. They raise him up, but a ball puts an immediate end to his brave career. To the rear of Spencer is the giant Warrick. He is shot through the body and taken to the surgery to be dressed. His wounds bound up, he insists on going back to the head of his company, although he has but a few hours to live. Thus fought and died these brave militiamen of the southern hills. Harrison orders up the company of Robb and the lines hold until the coming of the light.

Throughout the long and trying hours of darkness the Governor remains cool. Mounted on his charger, he appears at every point along the line, and his calm and confident tones of command give reassurance to all his men. If the formation can be held intact until the coming of the dawn, the bayonets of the regulars and the broadswords of the dragoons shall be brought into play. He remembers the example of the illustrious Wayne.

As the morning approaches the fight narrows down to the two flanks. Here the savages will make their last stand. Harrison now draws the companies of Snelling, Posey and Scott from the front lines, and the company of Captain Walter Wilson from the rear, and forms them on the left flank. At the same time he orders Baen's company from the front and Cook's from the rear, to form on the right. The infantry are to be supported by the dragoons. But as soon as the companies form on the left, Major Samuel Wells orders a charge, the Indians flee in front of the cold steel, and are pursued into the swamps by the dragoons. At the same moment the troops on the right dislodge the savages from behind the trees, and drive them headlong into the wet prairie in front. The battle is over. A long and deafening shout from, the troops proclaims the victory.

Thus ended the battle of Tippecanoe, justly famed in history. The intrepidity of the officers, the firm resolution of the regulars, the daring brilliancy of the militiamen, all brought about the desired end. The conflict had been severe. One hundred and eighty-eight men and officers were either killed or wounded. The officers slain were, Colonel Abraham Owen, Major Joseph Hamilton Daviess, Captain Jacob Warrick, Captain Spier Spencer, Captain William C. Baen, Lieutenant Richard McMahan, Lieutenant Thomas Berry, Corporal James Mitchell and Corporal Stephen Mars. The loss of the savages in killed alone was nearly forty. The number of their wounded could never be ascertained. They were led in battle by the perfidious Winamac, who had always professed to be the friend of the Governor, and by White Loon and the Stone Eater.

In the weeks that followed the battle much censure of Harrison was heard, and much of the credit for the victory was at first accorded to the United States regulars and Colonel Boyd. This was so manifestly unfair to General Harrison, that Captains Cook, Snelling and Barton, Lieutenants Adams, Fuller, Hawkins and Gooding, Ensign Burchstead and Surgeons Josiah D. Foster and Hosea Blood, all of the Fourth United States Regiment, signed an open statement highly laudatory of the Governor's talents, military science and patriotism. They declared that throughout the whole campaign the Governor demeaned himself both as a "soldier and a general," and that any attempt to undermine their confidence in and respect for the commander-in-chief, would be regarded by them as an "insult to their understandings and an injury to their feelings." The legislatures of Indiana and Kentucky passed resolutions highly commendatory of the Governor's military conduct and skill.

The Indian confederacy was crushed. Tecumseh returned about the first of the year to find the forces at the Prophet's Town broken up and scattered, and his ambitious dreams of empire forever dissipated. Nothing now remained for him to do but openly espouse the British cause. He became the intimate and associate of the infamous Proctor and died in the battle at the River Thames.

The battle of Tippecanoe gave great impetus to the military spirit in the western world and prepared the way for the War of 1812. Harrison became the leader of the frontier forces and thousands of volunteers flocked to his standard. The tales of valor and heroism, the stories of the death of Daviess and Owen, Spencer and Warrick, and of the long, terrible hours of contest with a savage foe, were recounted for years afterward around every fireside in southern Indiana and Kentucky, and brought a thrill of patriotic pride to the heart of every man, woman and child who heard them. The menace of the red skin was removed. During the following winter the frontier reposed in peace.

The battle did more. Many of those who followed Harrison saw for the first time the wonderful valley of the upper Wabash and the boundless prairies of the north. In the wake of the conflict followed the forces of civilization, and in a few years afterward both valley and plain were filling up with a virile and hardy race of frontiersmen who laid the foundations of the new commonwealth. In 1816, Indiana became a member of the federal union.