They did not have long to wait. Soon, through the thick mist overhanging the river, several canoes were seen swiftly and silently paddling toward them. The canoes were full of painted savages. Hubbel immediately ordered all the tables, chairs, and boxes, cumbering the deck, to be thrown overboard. He had made up his mind that the fight would be a hot one, and was going into it with plenty of elbow-room.

As soon as the Indians were within good gunshot they stopped paddling just long enough to let fly a rattling volley, by which two men were hit. They then shot ahead out of the smoke, taking positions at the bow, the stern, and alongside the clumsy ark, from which they began raking her in every part, at close range.

The boatmen sharply returned the fire, though they were but seven sound men against four or five times as many. However, the stout sides of the ark were a better protection than the light bark of the canoes, if the whites could have kept themselves covered, which, of course could not be done, as the Indians fired from all sides at once. In a few minutes, Hubbel himself received a shot through the arm.

Like hungry wolves worrying a wounded bison, the enboldened redskins now pushed in to finish the fight at close quarters. One canoe grappled with the ark's bow, several of the Indians sprang to the deck, tomahawk in hand, and already had raised their yell of triumph, when, like a wounded lion, Hubbel rushed upon them, with a pistol in each hand. The foremost Indian fell back, with a bullet in his body. Without stopping to see the effect of his second shot, Hubbel flung away his empty pistols, snatched up a cordwood stick from the deck, and using that as a club laid about him so furiously, that the

Indians were glad to leap into their canoes, and sheer off as quickly as possible.

But in this hand-to-hand scuffle Hubbel had been wounded again; and he had now only four men left unhurt.

They, however, undauntedly kept up the fight, choosing rather to be all killed fighting, than to die a lingering death by torture, if taken.

After their repulse the Indians kept up a dropping fire, cleverly timing their own movements with that of the ark, as she drifted helplessly on with the current. But whenever one of them half rose up to take aim, all the whites would fire at him at once, seldom failing to bring down their man. In this way, the Indians were kept at bay, until they gave up the fight, and sheered off for the shore, fairly beaten.

As the last canoe swung round, so as to present a fair mark, Hubbel fired the last shot at the Indian paddling in her stern. The well-aimed bullet tumbled the redskin into the bottom of the canoe, either dead or badly wounded.

While the whites were rejoicing over their narrow escape, the treacherous current was all the time setting them toward the shore, and presently the bullets were again coming thick and fast at them from the bushes. Two men were sent to the oars, but all their efforts could not urge the unwieldy hulk out of gunshot; and all had nearly given themselves up for lost, when the current. as suddenly carried the ark out into the middle of the river.

As soon as they were safe again, the survivors gave three hearty cheers for their victory.

It was dearly bought. Out of nine men who began the

combat, three were killed outright, and four wounded. None of the women or children, however, had received any hurt, except one little fellow, who bravely kept the knowledge of his wounds to himself, until the fight was over. He then asked to have a ball taken from his scalp. After this piece of lead had been removed, the brave lad held up his arm to show where another bullet had shattered the elbow, leaving a piece of the bone hanging to it by the skin. When his frightened mother asked him why he had not said a word of this, the young hero proudly replied, "Because the captain told us to keep quiet, and I thought you would make a noise if you knew of it."

THE STRUGGLE FOR POSSESSION, 1790-1791

FINDING that the Indians were so bent on war, St. Clair wisely decided to strike first. The heart of the Indian league was the Miami villages,' lying about the head of the Maumee. True, they were a long way off, yet unless they could be made to feel that nowhere would they be safe from punishment, their enmity would continue unabated.

For this point, then, General Harmar marched with something over fourteen hundred men, late in September (1790), his main purpose being to cripple the Indians by destroying their villages and harvests; or as we should now say, by making a raid on a large scale. Harmar was about turning back after doing considerable damage of this sort, when, a little below the site of Fort Wayne, Little Turtle, the Miami war-chief, suddenly fell upon one of the out-parties, cut it to pieces, and sent the survivors pell-mell back to the camp.

This disaster so stirred the army that, against his own judgment, Harmar sent off an expedition to surprise the Miami villages, by a forced march. Officers and men were only too eager to wipe away the disgrace that the army had just sustained.

Thinking Harmar to be in full retreat, the Indians had

HARMAR'S DEFEAT; VICINITY OF FORT WAYNE.

[1, Arrival at the ford; 2, first detachment stopped; 3, second detachment held at the ford.]

2

left the Maumee ford unguarded; so that, strangely enough, the Americans reached it undiscovered.

The enemy's principal encampment lay only a little way beyond, in a bend of the Maumee. To make the most of their advantage, the assailants now thought it best to divide their forces, letting one body make a wide circuit, in order to gain the rear of the camp, and so cut