“Begone!” the great chief sneered. “You are unfit to command! You are a squaw; go and put on petticoats!”
General Proctor’s face flushed hotly, but he did not utter the sharp retort that trembled upon his tongue. And it was well for him that he did not.
Tecumseh folded his arms and, stalking up and down among his warriors, kept them from further acts of violence.
The garrison of Fort Meigs, realizing the fate that threatened their brethren upon the opposite side of the river, went wild with excitement and anxiety. The commander and his officers repeatedly signalled the venturesome militiamen to return to their boats and cross over to the fort. Privates mounted the parapets and traverses—unmindful of Indian bullets—and shouted themselves hoarse in futile endeavor to attract the attention of the impetuous Kentuckians.
As has been shown, all this was vain. Then the soldiers within the walls demanded that they be led to the rescue of their friends. This General Harrison wisely refused to permit. But he asked for volunteers to cross the stream and recall Dudley and his men from the pursuit of the savages. Lieutenant Campbell offered his services. But when he reached the British batteries on the other side, Colonel Dudley and his men had disappeared in the thick woods. The Lieutenant immediately recrossed to the fort and reported the fact to his commander.
General Harrison was almost beside himself with rage and grief. Striding up and down in front of his tent, he wrung his hands and groaned:
“When will my countrymen learn to obey commands! Foolhardiness is as bad as cowardice—and leads to as grave results. Colonel Dudley and his command will be cut to pieces; every man will be killed or captured. And I dare not send troops to his aid. My hands are tied!”
A light breeze, sweeping in from the lake, rippled the surface of the river and brought to the ears of those within the garrison, the rattling crash of firearms in the distance and the cheers and whoops of the combatants. The smoke of the conflict rose above the tree-tops and drifted lazily toward the fort. With the smell of burning powder in their nostrils, the soldiers were hard to restrain. They ran from one part of the inclosure to another, brandishing their arms, and grumbling and cursing angrily.
“Ding-it-all-to-dingnation!” Joe Farley bellowed, gripping the stock of his rifle and panting hard with excitement. “Injin, we’d ort to be over there—we had, by Jerushy! Dang the hard-headed Kaintuckians, anyhow! The idee of ’em pokin’ the’r noses into a hornets’ nest, like that! They hain’t got a bit o’ gumption. But somebody’s got to go to the’r help, ’r ther’ won’t be a man of ’em left to tell the story. An’ what’s worryin’ me—Ross Douglas is among ’em. That youngster don’t more ’n git out o’ one diffikilty, till he’s plump into another one. He’ll be in the thick o’ the rumpus, too, you can jest bet. An’ he’ll git his everlastin’ this time—’r I miss my guess. Dodrot the luck, anyhow! What’re we goin’ to do? Jest listen to that, now! They’re havin’ it hot an’ heavy—an’ no mistake. We’ve had fightin’ all ’round us an’ all over us this mornin’. Me an’ you’s been in two purty little brushes ourselves. But, dang it, this is worse an’ more of it! Say—I can’t stand it no longer! Ross is over there in danger. I’m goin’ to him, if I have to swim the river to git there. What do you say, Injin?”
“Ugh! Me go, too,” the Wyandot replied calmly.