T the close of the Revolution, the boundaries of the United States were the Mississippi River on the west, the St. Lawrence and Great Lakes on the north, and the thirty-first parallel on the south. But for the famous expedition of Captain George Rogers Clark in 1778, the western boundary would have been the Allegheny Mountains. Clark was an elder brother of Captain William Clark, who, with Captain Merriwether Lewis, made his memorable journey across the continent to the Pacific, a quarter of a century later.

The opening of the vast region to the west of the old original thirteen States set flowing a tide of emigration into the new and inviting territory. The stream poured steadily year after year, but was often checked by the enmity of the Indian tribes, who claimed the country as their own, and resisted the inroads of the white men. Exposed cabins and small settlements were burned, and the inhabitants slain, while the stream of flatboats going down the Ohio had to run the gauntlet of the redskins along the shores. Although the craft had bullet-proof sides, even those, in many instances, failed to save them from destruction.

The most active leader of the Indians in their fights with the military forces sent thither to bring them to terms, was Little Turtle, or Michiniqua, a Miami chief, of great ability. Although his father was also a chief, Little Turtle won his rank at an early age by his skill and bravery. Every attempt having failed to bring peace to the frontier, President Washington sent a powerful military force into the region. It was under the command of General Josiah Harmar, who had served well through the Revolution, and was commander-in-chief of the United States army from 1789 to 1792. He marched from old Fort Washington, the site of Cincinnati, in 1790, at the head of three hundred and twenty regulars, to whom more than a thousand militia were soon afterward added. Six hundred Kentucky troops, led by Colonel Hardin, pushed in advance, and, finding the Indian villages deserted, destroyed them, after which a part of his force was sent in pursuit of the savages. They had not gone far when they met a body of warriors, under the command of Little Turtle. The latter attacked the whites so furiously that over fifty were quickly killed, and the militia fled in headlong panic. General Harmar laid waste the only remaining Indian village in the neighborhood, and returned to Fort Washington. He determined to try again. Halting within a few miles of Chillicothe, he ordered Colonel Hardin to hunt out the Indians, and give them battle. Little Turtle was quite willing to be found, and again under his lead, the redskins fought with such daring that a hundred and fifty of the regulars and militia, including several leading officers, were killed. Although the survivors fled, General Harmar claimed a victory. The only ground for this claim was that the Turtle lost so many of his men, that he permitted the soldiers to retreat unmolested.

The result of these disasters was bad indeed. The Indians became so bold in their raids that a reign of terror spread along the western border. The situation was so grave that Congress ordered the organization of a force for the punishment of the savages. In addition to several forts and garrisons, this army numbered fully two thousand men, under the command of General Arthur St. Clair, governor of the Northwest Territory. Before he set out on his campaign, President Washington called him to Philadelphia and warned him to guard against a surprise by the Indians. "They have a leader of great ability in Little Turtle," said he, "and have proved more than once that they will fight with bravery. Remember, my words: Beware of a surprise!"

General St. Clair left the nation's capitol with the words of the President ringing in his ears, and went directly to Fort Washington, arriving there in the middle of May, 1791. Various causes delayed the campaign, which began early in September, one year after the defeat of General Harmar. Fort Hamilton was built on the Miami in the country of Turtle, and Fort Jefferson forty miles farther on. Leaving a garrison in each, the army advanced, but its strength was reduced by desertions to fourteen hundred effectives. The militia were dissatisfied and unreliable.

Early in November, St. Clair made his camp on high ground, within fifteen miles of the Miami villages. The militia, to the number of three hundred, crossed a creek and halted on the first elevation a quarter of a mile beyond the main body. While forming their camp, Little Turtle attacked them. The militia immediately broke in a wild panic. Without attempting any fight, most of them flung away their guns, the warriors at their heels, and cutting them down as they ran. The Indians pursued them all the way to the main body and then attacked it. The soldiers fought heroically, and drove back their enemies several times, but the charges were repeated under the direction of the Turtle, with a boldness rarely shown by his race. The end of it all was another crushing disaster, in which the troops lost thirty-eight officers and about eight hundred men. Many of the wounded suffered shocking barbarities. Thus, out of a total of fourteen hundred, nearly seventy per cent. were slain or disabled.

In this woful affair, the opposing forces were equal—the Indians being perhaps a trifle the greater in number—and the credit of the victory by the red men is therefore the more marked. The horde was commanded by Little Turtle, and although there is no way of knowing his loss, it was certainly less than that of the whites. Years afterward, the chief declared that only nine of his warriors were killed, but the number was probably fifty or sixty.

Nothing could have been more complete than the panic of the soldiers. General Butler, second in command, was killed; the camp and artillery were abandoned, because not a horse was left alive to draw off the cannon, and the panting fugitives continued to throw away their guns and accoutrements long after the pursuit ceased. They did not halt until they reached Fort Jefferson, twenty-nine miles from the scene of the massacre.

Personally no one could have shown more bravery than General St. Clair. His clothing was pierced eight times by bullets, three horses were killed under him, and he strove with all the power and authority at his command to check the flight and rally the troops; but terrified men are as uncontrollable as so many thirsting buffaloes in their rush for water.

Washington was of a serene temperament, and very rarely did he give way to anger. We know, however, of two occasions in which his rage overmastered him. One of these was at Monmouth Court House, on that flaming day in June, 1778, when he came face to face with General Charles Lee, leading a retreat of a part of the patriot forces, and the other was when the news reached him of the disaster to St. Clair and his army. He stormed up and down his room, his passion so terrible, that none of his attendants dare address him.

"Right there!" he thundered, pointing at a chair, "he sat, and the last words I said to him were a warning against the very thing that has happened; there can be no excuse for such atrocious, horrible blundering."

One of the noblest attributes of the noblest of men was his disposition to do right, and to be just to every one. When the tempest of emotion had passed, and his natural calm returned, he added:

"I will not condemn him too harshly until I have heard his story from his own lips."

In due time, St. Clair presented himself before Washington, timid and fearful as to his reception. He was quickly set at ease, however, and the President kindly but earnestly questioned him. Despite the bad light in which the officer appeared, he had something to say in his own defence, and was entitled to a hearing. The regulars in his command were reliable, but most of the militia proved themselves worse than useless, for the example of their panic, which no one could check, had its disastrous effect upon their braver comrades as well.

Washington, however, made sure that the next general sent to the West was one who would not repeat the blunders of the others. He named that daring veteran "Mad Anthony" Wayne, and no officer could surpass him in the qualities required to overcome the hostiles, who had grown bolder than ever.

General Wayne began his campaign with the resolution to do the work thoroughly. He was eager to meet the hostiles, but was too wise to do so until every preparation was made. After entering the Indian country he did not neglect the slightest precaution. In the autumn of 1793, he built Fort Recovery on the site of St. Clair's defeat, followed by the erection of Fort Defiance, at the junction of the Miami and the Au Glaize. The next summer he began his march with two thousand regulars and eleven hundred mounted Kentucky militia. He entered the hostile section by a new and roundabout route, hoping to deceive Little Turtle as to his real line of march, but that wily chief was not misled.

Despite his fighting mood, Wayne did not give up hope of securing peace without a battle with the Indians. He thought that when they knew of the strong force marching against them, they would see the folly of resisting it. Learning that the redskins were in camp near the rapids of the Miami, he decided to send a messenger to them with peace proposals.

Now, while the office of a messenger to a civilized army brings no personal danger, it is otherwise when he visits an Indian force. Those people have no respect for a flag of truce, and have an unpleasant habit of killing visitors whom they do not like, when they present themselves with the white emblem fluttering over their heads. Among Wayne's troops was a man who had lived for several years with the Indians, who could speak their language, and knew all about them. When Wayne asked him to take his message to Little Turtle, he shook his head. He said the Indians were set upon war, that no argument or proposals could change that determination, and the chances were a hundred to one that they would kill him as soon as he appeared before them.

Wayne told him he might have any escort he chose, and that he would hold eight prisoners then in his hands, as hostages. He was to warn the chiefs that if they did any harm to the messenger, or if he did not return to Wayne at the end of three days, every one of the eight captives would be put to death at once.

The soldier finally consented to go, taking one man and a squaw with him as his companions, instead of an armed escort, which he knew would be very dangerous to him. He started one afternoon and reached the Indian camp the next morning, without his approach being observed, until he was among the hostiles. The moment he displayed his flag, and said he was a messenger, he was met on all sides with shouts, "Kill him! Kill the spy!" He explained matters in their own language, and instead of slaying him, the redskins told him he was their prisoner. He then gave the rest of his message, telling about the letter of General Wayne, and warning them that if he was held longer than the next day, all the eight Indians in camp would be put to death at sunset.

This language had its effect. The visitor was set free after a few hours, and took back a message to General Wayne to the effect that if he would stay where he was for ten days, and would then send the same messenger to them, they would treat with him, but if he made any advance with his army, he would be attacked.

It should be said in this place that the only wise one among the Indian chiefs was Little Turtle. He opposed a battle with the American army. He reminded his associates that they had made many attempts to surprise the commander, but had not done so in a single instance; there were more "Long Knives" than had ever before entered their country, and they were led by their best general. In such circumstances, defeat at their hands was more than likely.

One of the chiefs replied to these wise words by taunting the Turtle with cowardice. The leader was enraged enough to brain the sachem, but he mastered his anger, and said nothing; it was decided that the battle should be given on the morrow and he was ready.

On his way to camp, the messenger met General Wayne and his army. That officer was so certain of the answer to his message that he decided not to wait any longer. He reached the Miami Rapids on August 18th, near the enemy's camp, and threw up fortifications. He was on the march again by the 20th, using all care against surprise. A few hours later, his advance scouts were fired upon, and Wayne formed his line of battle and advanced in three columns.

Little Turtle had posted his men with his usual skill, a rocky bank of the river being on the left, and had cut down a large number of trees in his front, so as to make the cavalry useless. The warriors were formed in three lines, within supporting distance of one another, with a front fully a mile and a half long.

It is not necessary to describe this historical battle, which was conducted with such skill by Wayne that in a brief time the whole force of hostiles were routed in headlong flight. They were shot down and pursued until they took refuge under the guns of Fort Maumee, a British post. When the commandant of this warned Wayne to cease slaying the warriors, the American replied that he would do as he saw fit, and, if the British officer was not pleased therewith, he might bring his garrison outside and he would serve them in the same way as the Indians.

Seven tribes were represented in this battle,—the Shawnoes, Miamis, Pottawatomies, Chippewas, Delawares, Ottawas and Senecas. One year later, the treaty of Greenville was signed, twelve tribes giving their written assent to its terms, which ceded twenty-five thousand square miles of territory to the United States in the present States of Indiana and Michigan, in addition to sixteen tracts, including lands and forts. The Indians who agreed to this cession were paid twenty thousand dollars in presents and promised an annual allowance of ten thousand dollars. The peace thus secured lasted, with slight interruption, until the breaking out of the war of 1812, some years after.

Among those who accepted the treaty of Greenville were Little Turtle and Tecumseh (of whom we shall learn presently). They never left any doubt of the sincerity of their pledge, though the Turtle, like Red Jacket and others, raised a good deal of enmity among his own people, because of the respect the whites showed him, and the self-evident fact that the sachem had more wisdom than any or all of their own chiefs. The Americans built him a comfortable home on Eel River, a few miles from Fort Wayne, and he made his home there. He showed such a preference for civilized life that our Indian agents were ordered to see that he never wanted for anything necessary to his comfort. He made several visits to Philadelphia, and to Washington, when the seat of the national government was removed to the latter city. In every case he received marked attention, and became a general favorite. The famous French traveler and scholar, Count Volney, sought out Little Turtle in Philadelphia, in 1797, and with the aid given him by the chief, formed a vocabulary of his language, copies of which are still well preserved.

Volney, who became quite fond of Little Turtle, asked him one day why he did not live in Philadelphia, instead of in his cabin on the Wabash. The chief replied: "I admit that on the whole you have the advantage over us, but here I am deaf and dumb. I do not talk your language; I can neither hear nor make myself heard. When I walk through the streets, I see every person in his shop employed at something. One makes shoes, another makes hats, a third sells cloth, and every one lives by his labor. I say to myself, 'Which of all these things can you do?' Not one. I can make a bow or an arrow, catch fish, kill game and go to war; but none of these is of any good here. To learn what is done here would require a long time. Old age comes on; I should be a piece of furniture useless to my nation, useless to the whites, and useless to myself; I must return to my own country."