The five with Boone, Kenton and Thomas were just ahead of the vanguard, and Colonel Clark who was now on horseback rode up to them.
"How far would you say it is to Chillicothe?" he asked Henry.
"We should be there in an hour."
Colonel Clark looked at his watch.
"One o'clock in the afternoon," he said. "That will give us plenty of time for a battle, if they choose to offer it to us, but it looks as if we would receive no such offer. All that you have said, young sir, is coming to pass."
They were following the broad trail left by the Indian army on its retreat, but not a single warrior appeared to oppose them. There were no sounds in the woods save those made by themselves. No bark of dog or signal of savage came from the village which was now just beyond a thin veil of forest.
Colonel Clark's iron self-control yielded a little. He allowed the men to hasten somewhat, and they came all at once into the corn field which Henry and his friends had entered. They saw, beyond, the walls and roofs of Chillicothe. Colonel Clark instantly ordered a halt. A field of waving corn could hold a thousand hidden warriors, but Boone, Henry and the others were already in the corn and announced that nobody was there. Then the army with a great shout advanced on the run, the wheels of the cannon grinding down the corn.
In five minutes they were at Chillicothe, and then they saw flames leaping from the highest houses. The town was on fire and all its people had fled. The broad trail, littered with fragments, showed that they had gone towards Piqua. But the army, still kept in battle order, did not follow yet. It watched the burning of Chillicothe and helped it along. The soldiers, with the cannon in the center, were drawn up just on the outside of the town, and, under order of the officers, many of them seized torches and lighted tepee and wigwam. The dry corn in the fields and everything else that would burn was set on fire. What would not burn was trampled to a pulp beneath the feet of men and horses.
Meanwhile the flames spread to every part of the village, united and fused into one vast conflagration. The sight thrilled and awed even Henry, Paul, and the others who had seen similar things in the Iroquois country. But there were not many in that army of white men who felt pity. This was Chillicothe, the greatest of the Western Indian towns. Some of them had been held prisoners there. Others had seen their friends tortured to death at this very place. The wives and children of many had been taken away to Chillicothe and no one had ever seen or heard of them again. Here the great Indian forays started and the very name of Chillicothe was hateful to the white men who had come from beyond the Ohio to destroy it and the warriors who lived there. They were glad to see it burning. They rejoiced when wigwams and Council House crashed down in blazing timbers. It pleased them to see the corn and beans and all the Indian stores destroyed, because then the warriors must hunt in the forest for food, and would have no time to hunt in the Kentucky woods for white scalps.
The five stayed on the side of the town somewhat away from the conflagration. The heat was tremendous. It was a big town and the flames rose in an enormous red tower waving under the wind, and roaring as they ate into fresh food. Light tepees were licked up in an instant. Sparks flew in myriads and red coals were carried by the wind. Orchards and fields were swept away with the rest by the fiery blast. A great pall of ashes began to settle over the country surrounding the town.