The camp-fires were quickly extinguished, that their light might not assist the Indians, and the battle raged in the darkness on all sides. Elskwatawa had prophesied that the American bullets would rebound from the bodies of the Indians, and that they would be provided with light, while all would be "thick darkness" to their enemies. He had evidently heard of Moses and Pharaoh. For some reason, however, he did not personally try the truth of his prophecies by engaging in the fight; unwilling "to attest at once the rival powers of a sham prophecy and a real American bullet." Stationing himself on a small hill near at hand, he chanted a war-song, and presided like an evil genius over this battle. Though invisible in the darkness, his shrill and piercing voice could be distinctly heard above the noise. To the messengers that came to tell him that, despite his assurances, his followers were falling, he said: "Tell them to keep on fighting and it will be as the Prophet has said."
In the confusion of the sudden attack the large white horse of Governor Harrison could not be found, and he mounted a borrowed plug of a different color instead. This circumstance doubtless saved his life. One of his aides, who also rode a white horse, fell in the very beginning of the attack, pierced by a dozen balls. There can be no doubt he was mistaken for his chief, whom the Indians determined to kill at all hazards.
During the battle General Harrison rode from one side of the camp to the other, disposing his men to the best advantage, and inspiring them by his personal courage. A ball passed through his hat and another his hair, but he escaped unhurt. At one time he stopped to reprove a cowardly French ensign, who sheltered himself behind a tree, and told him he ought to be ashamed to be under shelter when his men were exposed.
The Frenchman, when the battle was over, complained bitterly. "I vas not behind de tree," he said; "de tree vas before me. Dere vas de tree, and here vas my position; how can I help? I can not move de tree; I can not leaf my position."
The Indians made use of deer hoofs instead of drums to signal an advance or retreat; making with them certain rattling sounds. Never were savages known to battle more desperately. For once they quite abandoned their practice of fighting from behind shelter, and rushed right up to the bayonets of their foes. The conflict lasted until shortly after daylight, when with a last charge the troops routed the savages and put them to flight.
When the Indians fled the whites found thirty-seven of their own number killed and one hundred and fifty-one wounded. Twenty-five of the latter died of their wounds. The loss of the Indians was thought to be equally great.
The Prophet's influence was gone forever, "You are a liar," said a Winnebago warrior to him whom they had lately revered as a messenger from the Great Spirit, "for you told us that the white people were dead or crazy, when they were all in their senses and fought like the devil."
The Prophet replied, in a tone strangely different from that which he was accustomed to use, that there had been some mistake in the compounding of his "medicine." The enraged Indians bound him and threatened him with death, but finally released him.
The second day after the battle the Americans advanced to the Prophet's town. No defiant war-whoop greeted them. The place was deserted, having been abandoned in a panic.
The Indians, more civilized than most tribes, had left behind all their household furniture, many firearms (supplied by the British), great quantities of corn, numbers of hogs and chickens. The only inhabitant was an aged chief with a broken leg, who had been left by his people. Having dressed the wound of the chief and provided sufficient food to last him several days, they told him to say to the Indians that those who should leave the Prophet and return to their own tribes should be forgiven. Then taking the provisions for their own use the entire village was destroyed.