TH E
CHEMAWA
A M E R IC A N
7
edly his friend, b u t really his treacherous foe. T h ere are few, if any,
instances in history m ore indicative of lofty nobility and of exalted
loyalty to a cause th an th at exhibited by th is “ k in g of th e w oods” in
his pathetic preparation for his apotheosis.
T he A m erican forces, n um bering about tw enty-five h u n d red , under
the in trep id H arriso n , advanced im patiently to the attack . Tecum seh
gave th e signal for his w arriors to enter the com bat w hich was to be his
doom , by giving the Shaw nee war whoop and firing his g u n . T h e
clash was sh arp , desperate, gory and destructive. T h e B ritish left w ing
was broken w ith the first irresistible blow of th e A m ericans. T h e red
coats stood not upon the order of th eir going, b u t w ent at once, fleeing
like frightened sheep before the storm , or falling easy prey into the
hands of the victors. P rocter, the craven-hearted general, at the ea r
liest intim ation of disaster, m ounted his horse and deserting his stricken
and helpless grenadiers, precipitately fled to a haven of safety, sixty-
five miles aw ay. T h e red men would not yield. Com m anded by th eir
chieftain and encouraged by his clarion voice, his w ords, “ Be brave,
be b rav e!” ran g o u t am id the roar of battle; they stood and fought like
w arriors w orthy th eir race and w orthy their fearless leader, who, like
th e illustrious E arl of W arw ick, M aker of K ings, at the battle of Bar-
n et, sou g h t the m idst of the carnage and courted death. Between T e
cu m seh ’s In d ian s and the dashing cavalrym en of Colonel Johnson, the
fray was m ost fierce and deadly. It was hand to hand, and tom ahaw k
and sabre did th e ir bloody w ork. It was brief, not a red w arrior w av
ered until the w ar-w hoops of T ecum seh ceased, till th a t voice w hich,
like the bugle blast of the Scotch clansm an of old, “ was w orth a th o u
sand m e n ,” was suddenly hushed in death.
T h u s heroically passed the m ajestic soul of T ecum seh. T h e final
hopes of the red m an were interred w ith his bones. T h ere was to be
no resurrectio n . H e gave his life blood, as th e fearless and patriotic
have ever done—on the field of valor, for the rig h ts of a race; his re
quiem was the clash of arm s and the din of battle:
“ Oil, fading h ono rs of th e dead;
O h, high am bition low ly la id .”
Amid th e w ar-cries of his d o ughty braves, as they fought on around
his fallen form , his spirit was wafted to the “ happy h u n tin g g ro u n d s .”
H is grief-stricken w arriors stealth ily recovered his body d u rin g the
n ig h t, as it lay upon the fatal field under the fitful light of the v ic to r’s
cam pfires.
But his m em ory needs no m onum ent of m arble or tablet of brass.
H is renow n is indelibly recorded on the pages of im perishable history.
H e was th e finest flower of the A m erican aboriginal race. G reater hero
hath never died, nor yet shall fall; his savage genius was all b u t sub-