Sa-wa-co-ta was killed at Frenchtown, by a ball intended for his superior. The Americans, closely pursued, had sought shelter behind houses and fences on the south side of the River Raisin. The Indians, by a detour, had gained the woods in the rear and were protected. Disdaining to skulk from tree to tree, the fiery warrior, with Tecumseh and a small number of brave men, pressed boldly upon the fugitives. Observing that their leader was singled out by the enemy, his companions closed in around the chief to shield him, at the moment that Yellow Cloud stepped in front, for the same purpose. The latter fell, heart and brain penetrated by bullets. Thus nobly ended the life of Sa-wa-co-ta, of whose achievements, even the noted chiefs, Roundhead, Panther and Blue Jacket, might well be proud.
History has recorded the outcome of the struggle, and traced the wanderings of those who, deprived of their inheritance and driven to desperation, united with the foes of America.
General Proctor, discouraged by Perry's victory on Lake Erie, that occurred some time later, fled from Malden, where he was stationed at the time, with eight hundred soldiers and two thousand Indians. General Harrison overtook the combined forces near the River Thames. During the battle, Colonel Johnson and the Kentucky cavalry were ordered to charge. Galloping forward, they broke through the lines and formed again, when the English surrendered. Tecumseh began the conflict with fury, fighting more fiercely than ever before. His voice could be heard above the din, inspiring the men to make every exertion; but the day was lost. Colonel Johnson, engaged in a hand-to-hand contest with a fine, well-built Indian, was wounded by another, as soon as he had despatched the first. The second assailant then sprang toward him with a tomahawk, when the officer drew a pistol and killed his antagonist. The rest of the savages, losing hope, gave way.
Night came on, but the heavens were dark. The Shooting Star would never more be seen. The ringing voice was silent; and Tecumapease, his sister, waited in vain for the return of her lord. Stand Firm, "faithful unto death," had fallen beside the chief. Next morning, the bodies of two warriors, with dignity of face and form, were found, not far apart, upon the bloody field.
Tecumseh was the greatest, most magnanimous, and bravest man the red race had ever known. Now that his brilliant oratory no longer swayed the multitudes, organized resistance to settlement north of the Ohio River ceased. Tecumapease, to whom had been entrusted the care of her brother's child, died a few years later, and the boy, together with her son, drifted, with the Shawnees, from reservation to reservation. For many years they lived in Eastern Kansas, where the descendants of Tecumapease still reside, and relate, with pardonable pride, the exploits of their forefathers.
The tardiness of the red race in accepting civilization, has long been a subject of comment. Yet the barbarian should not be censured, in view of the fact that paler-faced youth, with all the benefits accruing from past generations of culture, have, in many instances, taken readily to aboriginal customs. It was a part of the religion of all Indian nations to increase their number by adoption. Frequently white children were spirited away from home and carried from place to place, in order to evade pursuit. Almost invariably, after a lapse of time, they not only became reconciled to savage modes of living, but preferred them. A notable case was that of
CHINWA, THE WHITE WARRIOR.
In the early part of the nineteenth century, before the Shawnees had emigrated to the Valley of the Kaw, there was a famous old chief named Black Fish, who was untiring in activity against the white settlers. During one of the numerous periods of hostility, Chinwa, the only son of this warrior, was killed; and the grief-stricken father said to his braves,