are determined to
defend our lands, and if it be His will, we wish to leave our bones upon
them."

Notwithstanding the wish of Tecumseh, General Proctor kept his purpose
to retreat. He promised, however, that if they were pursued by the
Americans he would turn at the first favorable site and give them
battle. Accordingly, Tecumseh accompanied the retreating General. He
repeatedly urged Proctor to keep his promise and face the enemy. On the
fifth of October, Proctor learned that the American forces were at his
heels. Valor, therefore, seemed the better part of discretion, and,
choosing a ridge between the Thames River and a swamp, he arranged his
forces for battle.

Colonel Richard M. Johnson managed the charge of the Americans. One
division of his regiment, under command of his brother, attacked and
quickly routed the British regulars under General Proctor. The other
division he himself led against Tecumseh's Indians.

The Indians waited under protection of the thick brush until the
horsemen were within close range; then in response to Tecumseh's war cry
all fired. Johnson's advance guard was nearly cut down. The horses could
not advance. Johnson ordered his men to dismount and a terrible struggle
followed. Soon Tecumseh was shot, and, the Indians missing him, gave up
the battle and fled. One of them afterwards described the defeat in a
few words: "Tecumseh fell and we all ran."

The war was now ended in the Northwest. The Americans had regained the
posts taken by the British; they had subdued the Indians, and gained
possession of the lands in the Wabash Valley. The power of the Prophet
was destroyed. Tecumseh was dead. The Long Knives had crushed forever
the Confederacy of Tecumseh, but it had taken upward of five million
dollars and an army of twenty thousand men to do it.

THE STORY OF OSCEOLA

BY FRANCES M. PERRY

THE STORY OF OSCEOLA

I. THE EXODUS OF THE RED STICKS

The sun was low in the west and sent long shafts of light across the
tops of the trees that bordered a quiet, shining lake in northern
Florida. It shone upon a company of Indians who were straggling along
the shore, and made their bright turbans and many colored calicoes look
gay in spite of dirt and tatters.

The company was a large one. In it were not only braves, but also squaws
and pappooses, and a few negroes. They trooped along with the unhurried
swiftness and easy disarray of men and women who have journeyed for many