It was Jack. “General!” he clamored. “They’re in two lines in open order.”
Harrison started. “In open order!” he cried. “You’re mad.”
“No! It’s true! I’ve been within a hundred yards of them. It’s true! I swear it.”
Another horseman wearing the shoulder straps of a major dashed up. “General!” he cried. “They’re in open order. I’ve just——”
“Enough!” Harrison spun around. “By God! We’ve got them! Mr. Telfair, tell Colonel Johnson my orders are to charge home.” He swung around. “Major Wood, tell Colonel Trotter the plans have been changed. Colonel Johnson will attack on horseback and the infantry will support him. Go!”
Ten minutes later the Kentucky cavalry rode into the narrowing neck between the river and the small swamp. As they crowded in, the space grew too small for effective manœuvres. Colonel R. H. Johnson, afterward to be elected vice-president of the United States, rode at the head of the left-hand squadron, naked saber resting against his shoulder. He noticed the constriction and called to his brother, commanding the right-hand column. “Say, Jim,” he cried. “You handle the British. I’ll cross the swamp and tackle Tecumseh.” He turned to his men. “Column left,” he ordered.
Jack, defiant of the rule that bade him rejoin General Harrison, once his message had been delivered, had followed close at Colonel Johnson’s heels. Now, he sped across to those of Lieutenant-Colonel James Johnson.
“Attention!” James’s voice rang above the thudding hoofs. “By troops! Right front into line. March.”
The shimmering column broke up, dividing into four. “Forward! Steady! Right dress. Forward!” Quickly the orders followed.
James faced about. “Advance rifles,” he ordered; and the muskets rattled as they fell into position.