a general charge.

Then, to the amazement of the Americans, the heretofore invisible foe
burst suddenly forth from his ambush, and now, in a long, well-ordered
line, was coming impetuously on to meet them un-Indian-like in the open
field. Headed by their intrepid leader, on they came amain, brandishing
their tomahawks and war-clubs and filling the woods with their appalling
yells and war-whoops. But now, well out of the bushy skirts of the swamp
and able to look about them, they discovered what before their chief had
designedly concealed from them--that the English regulars had all been
captured, and that they were no longer supported by their white allies.
The lengthened array of dusky warriors was observed to pause, to falter,
then, at the next discharge of bullets sent point-blank at them, to
break in pieces, dissolving at once into a mere disorderly rabble. All
order lost, lost was all mutual confidence and all courage. Back, with a
howl of disappointment and dismay, they quailed from before the
advancing foe, and as suddenly as they had appeared, vanished again in
the somber shadows of the marsh.

Hastily rallying about three hundred of his bravest followers,
conspicuous among whom towered the gigantic bulk of Black Thunder, and
inspiring them to heroism by his own example, again was Tecumseh
pressing impetuously forward, his tomahawk brandished aloft and his
trumpetlike voice still ringing high and clear above the rude uproar;
nor paused he till with terrible energy he had hewn his way into the
thick of the enemy's ranks. Now, with tomahawk uplifted, he had planted
himself directly confronting Colonel Johnson, who, mounted on a white
horse, was pressing forward, though desperately wounded, to encounter
the Indian chief, his pistol already leveled. The next instant, and all
in that self-same instant, the white horse dropped dead under his
wounded rider, the pistol went off, a terrible cry was heard, a wild
leap into the air was seen, and hushed was the clarion voice of command.
The red warriors paused, gazed wildly about them, as were they listening
to catch their leader's voice; then, hearing it no more, with a howl of
dismay and despair, which found an echo in a howl as drear from their
fellows crouched in the swamp, they turned and fled. The Battle of the
Thames was over. The might of the Shemanols had prevailed, the blood-red
banner of the English Manakee had been laid in the dust, and the
ambushed army of th