our front, in the foot
of the cornfield." He thought they were discovered; but one Baker, a
soldier well versed in Indian ways, told him that it was only some
village gallant calling to a young squaw. The party then crouched in the
bushes, and kept silent. The moon sank behind the woods, and fires soon
glimmered through the field, kindled to drive off mosquitoes by some of
the Indians who, as the night was warm, had come out to sleep in the
open air. The eastern sky began to redden with the approach of day. Many
of the party, spent with a rough march of thirty miles, had fallen
asleep. They were now cautiously roused; and Armstrong ordered nearly
half of them to make their way along the ridge of a bushy hill that
overlooked the town, till they came opposite to it, in order to place it
between two fires. Twenty minutes were allowed them for the movement;
but they lost their way in the dusk, and reached their station too late.
When the time had expired, Armstrong gave the signal to those left with
him, who dashed into the cornfield, shooting down the astonished savages
or driving them into the village, where they turned and made desperate
fight.

It was a cluster of thirty log-cabins, the principal being that of the
chief, Jacobs, which was loopholed for musketry, and became the centre
of resistance. The fight was hot and stubborn. Armstrong ordered the
town to be set on fire, which was done, though not without loss; for the
Delawares at this time were commonly armed with rifles, and used them
well. Armstrong himself was hit in the shoulder. As the flames rose and
the smoke grew thick, a warrior in one of the houses sang his
death-song, and a squaw in the same house was heard to cry and scream.
Rough voices silenced her, and then the inmates burst out, but were
instantly killed. The fire caught the house of Jacobs, who, trying to
escape through an opening in the roof, was shot dead. Bands of Indians
were gathering beyond the river, firing from the other bank, and even
crossing to help their comrades; but the assailants held to their work
till the whole place was destroyed. "During the burning of the houses,"
says Armstrong, "we were agreeably entertained by the quick succession
of charged guns, gradually firing off as reached by the fire; but much
more so with the vast explosion of sundry bags and large kegs of
gunpowder, wherewith almost every house abounded; the prisoners
afterwards informing us that the Indians had fre