To preserve unity, and also to explain some portions of our story, which may seem to wear a mysterious colouring, the thread of our narrative requires that we should again return to the brothers, Tecumseh and Elkswatawa. As will be recollected, at the treaty of Greenville, in '95, they were too young to be allowed a voice in council; for, among the aborigines, wisdom and age are regarded as almost synonymous terms, and no exploit, however daring, nor reputation, however well earned, is ever regarded as a sufficient equivalent for the want of years. Previous to that date, however, Tecumseh, as the leader of a roving band, had, in the estimation of his countrymen, won for himself the reputation of a great warrior; and when, although it was stern necessity which forced them, he saw the chieftains of his own and other tribes, about to surrender all for which they had so long contended, he would not witness the humiliating compact, but beckoning to his brother, they left the council, that they might avoid the hated face of the white men, and plunging deeper into the forest, rove where yet they could be wild and free. Satisfied that, under existing circumstances, they could do nothing which would materially benefit their tribe, or tend in any way to effect a restoration of their lands, they passed several years wandering far in the wilderness, and were rarely known to mingle with their countrymen. But when the tidings that a firm peace had been established were spread throughout the country, and the uninterrupted quiet of a few years proclaimed those tidings true, swarms of emigrants were seen hurrying on to the west. With their arrival, encroachments were commenced on the lands of the Indians, and with these encroachments, again appeared Tecumseh and his brother. They ranged the frontier from north to south, and viewed in silence the ravages which the great influx of strangers was making upon their lands. They then returned from south to north, that they might more fully acquaint themselves with the power and resources of the whites; but when they returned, they found that their former footsteps had been effaced by the rapidly swelling flood; and they made for themselves a new path, farther in the forest, upon lands which were as yet untouched by the inundation. And often did they pause, and in silence contemplate the tide which was sweeping along, and which they saw they had no means of opposing; and their bosoms heaved, and they wept, when looking a few years into the future, they saw the fate of the red men.