Both wings were ordered to take a position at Point Pleasant, where the Great Kanawha empties into the Ohio. The division led by Lewis reached this place and, having camped on a jut of land between the two rivers, waited the coming of Lord Dunmore and his command.

But the crafty Cornstalk did not propose to wait for the coming of the other wing; through his runners he had full knowledge of the movements of the frontier militia. He was greatly outnumbered; but he had at his command over a thousand warriors, the very pick of the young men to be found among the tribes between the Great Lakes and the Ohio. His foes were divided, and he determined to strike a decisive blow before they were again united. Accordingly, he led his long file of warriors to the mouth of the Kanawha, and attacked the division under Lewis on the morning of October 10, 1774, about daylight.

This battle, known in history by two names—Point Pleasant and the Great Kanawha—was purely an American affair because it was fought solely by the backwoodsmen on one side, and American Indians on the other. It was Greek meeting Greek, or, better still, white American meeting Red, and was one of the most stubbornly fought and bravely contested in the annals of history.

The fight was a succession of single combats, each man sheltering himself behind a stump, or rock, or tree-trunk, or whatever was at hand. The backwoodsmen were the best shots, but the Indians excelled in the art of hiding and shielding themselves from harm. The two lines, though more than a mile in length, were so close together that many of the combatants grappled in hand-to-hand combat, using knife or tomahawk. The crack of the rifles was continuous, while above the noise could be heard the groans of the wounded and the shouts of the combatants, as each encouraged his own side or jeered at the enemy. The cheers of the whites mingled with the war-whoops of the Indians. The chiefs continued to exhort their warriors to still greater deeds of valor.

Cornstalk, the commander of the savages, distinguished himself in all his maneuvers throughout the engagement by the skill as well as the bravery of a consummate general. During the whole of the day his stentorian voice was heard throughout the ranks of his enemies, vociferating, "Be strong! be strong!" After an incessant fire of about twelve hours' duration darkness put an end to the conflict. The Indians now made a most skilful retreat, carrying all their wounded in safety across the Ohio, and the Americans were too exhausted to pursue them.

This battle was not only stubbornly contested but bloody. The whites, though claiming the victory, had suffered more than their foes, and indeed had won only because it was against the entire policy of Indian warfare to suffer a severe loss, even if a victory could be gained thereby. Some seventy-five of the whites had been killed or mortally wounded, and one hundred and forty severely or slightly wounded, so that they lost a fifth of their entire number. Of the Indians, the loss was not much more than half as many; only about forty were killed or mortally wounded. No chief of importance was slain among the Indians, while the whites lost in succession their second, third and fourth in command, and had seventeen officers killed or wounded.

The spirit of the Indians had been broken by their defeat. Cornstalk and Logan alone were ready and eager to continue the war. But when the former saw that he could not stir the hearts of his warriors, even with his burning eloquence, to continue the war, he stuck his tomahawk into the war-post, and said that if he could not lead them in battle he would lead them in making peace. Accordingly, with all his fellow-chiefs, except Logan, he went to Lord Dunmore's camp, and there entered into a treaty. In this the Indians agreed to surrender all the white prisoners and stolen horses in their possession, to renounce all claim to the lands south of the Ohio, and to give hostages as an earnest of their good faith.

Cornstalk was their chief spokesman, and though obliged to assent to the conditions imposed, yet preserved through all the proceedings a bearing of proud defiance that showed that he at least was not conquered, and was a stranger to fear. In all his talks, he addressed the white leaders with a tone of vehement denunciation and reproach, that seemed to evince more the attitude of a conqueror than of one of the conquered. The Virginians, who prized skill in oratory only less than skill in warfare, were greatly impressed by the chieftain's eloquence, marvelous voice and majestic bearing. Some of them afterwards stated that his oratory fully equaled that of their great speakers, Richard Henry Lee and Patrick Henry.

Meantime Logan remained apart in the Mingo village, brooding over his wrongs and the vengeance he had taken. The other Indians, when asked about Logan and the reason of his absence, replied that he was like an angry dog, whose bristles were still up, but that they were gradually falling, and when he was urged to attend the meeting he replied that he was a warrior, not a councillor, and would not come.

Since the mountain would not come to Mohammed, that prophet was forced to go to the mountain; as it was deemed absolutely imperative to have an understanding with this great leader, and learn his intentions. Accordingly a messenger was sent to interview Logan. John Gibson, a frontier veteran, who had long lived among the Indians and knew thoroughly both their language and their manners and customs, was chosen for this task. To him Logan was willing to talk. Taking him aside, he suddenly addressed him in a speech that will always retain its place as one of the finest outbursts of Indian eloquence recorded in the history of our country. John Gibson was a plain, honest backwoodsman, utterly incapable of "doctoring" a speech for the better, so he took it down in writing, translating it literally, and, returning to camp, put it into Dunmore's hands. The Governor then read it in council before the entire frontier army, including George Rogers Clark and Cresap, to whom Logan imputed the butchery of his family.