When he found himself deserted by his white ally—the strong hand under which he and his people had trusted to return to the land of their fathers—then did the heroic sachem feel that he was fighting the last battle of a hopeless cause. But too proud to survive a failure so vast—the blasted hopes of his life, the ruined schemes of his ambition—he determined to die then and there, and die, too, such a death as should shed over the very failure an undying glory. To this intent he would order a general charge, disdaining the further shelter of his stronghold and meeting the enemy in the open field. True, such a movement would be utterly at variance with the usages of Indian warfare. True, also, the enemy to be charged was flushed with present success, not to mention his being the stronger and made audacious from having been the pursuer in the chase just ended. But such a movement, from the fact of its being without example and without hope, would make his skill as a leader the more apparent, his death as a warrior the more certain and glorious. Yes, he would order 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 the red man broken and scattered. The heroic, the high-minded, the hapless Tecumseh was fallen.
Throughout the action, though he had gallantly headed his company in every charge, Captain Reynolds had not fired a single shot, lest, by some unhappy chance, Kumshakah, the preserver of his life, might fall by his hand. When the battle was over and he had assisted in bearing his wounded colonel to camp, he hunted up Burl and, bidding him follow, returned in the course of an hour to the battle-ground, to look once more on his face who at sunset had said, "Let him sleep; Wahcoudah's will be done." He had repeated to his old servant what their deliverer had told them of himself. But having taken in the evidence of his own senses and already drawn therefrom his own unalterable conclusions, Big Black Burl could not be made to understand how a man who looked like Kumshakah, talked like Kumshakah, acted like Kumshakah, called himself Kumshakah, could be any other than the Kumshakah whom he had met as a foe, entertained as a guest, parted with as a friend, and ever afterward loved as a brother. Such was his conviction then, and such it remained through life.
On reaching the spot where he had seen the hero fall, Reynolds found a number of his brother soldiers already gathered there, and still others coming up, all eager either for the first time to behold or to get a nearer view of the renowned Indian chieftain. With the dead of both friend and foe strewn thick around him, there he lay, his handsome face still lighted up with a glorious and triumphant smile, as if the magnanimous soul that so long had animated those noble features had, in rising, stamped it there to tell his enemies that, though fallen, he had fallen and conquered. Beside him, and in striking contrast with his symmetrical and stately figure, his pleasing and majestic aspect, lay extended the huge bulk and scowled the terrible visage of Black Thunder.
"Pore, pore Kumshy!" exclaimed Burl, in a pitying voice.
"Yes, poor Kumshakah, and poor Tecumseh, too!" rejoined his master, with solemn and profound emotion.
"What's dat you say, Mars'er Bushie?" inquired Burl quickly and with a puzzled look.
Slowly young Reynolds repeated what he had said, and then added: "What we now see before us, Burl, is all that is left of the great Tecumseh!"
Had this specter of the slain chief risen suddenly from his body and stood confronting him, the effect on the mind of Big Black Burl could hardly have been more startling than that caused by this revelation. Three huge backward strides he made, then motionless stood for many moments, one foot a step behind the other, his hands uplifted and outspread, his eyes wide open, staring fixedly with mingled amazement, incredulity, and awe, at the lifeless body before him.