“How long before we shall turn out, general?” was asked by one of them. “Ten minutes;”—was the reply. The mist, which for some hours had been gathering over the land, was now condensed into a cold drizzling rain; thick clouds swept by ever and anon, obscuring the moon, and all was hushed in silence, when the report of a gun rang through the camp, and with it came the war-whoop of five or six hundred Indians. Then, in an instant, was heard the long roll of the drum, and there was hurrying to and fro, “and mounting in hot haste,” and swift winged messengers of death were flying in every direction. From one end of the camp to the other, there was heard the crash of arms, and the whites fired against an unseen enemy, and yet they saw themselves falling, fast and thick. It was now discovered that their camp fires only served to render them visible, while they tended more effectually to conceal the Indians. They were, therefore, hurriedly covered over, and then the doings of death were done in darkness, or by faint glimpses caught from the red glare of the discharging guns. On each side might be seen the impetuous onset, and the deadly struggle; and men fell grappling hand to hand, yet saw not the face of him who dealt the blow. While thus the battle raged, the Prophet was stationed on an eminence at a comfortable distance, and though he fought not, he sang loud and long, and howled his war song until it reached the ears of his warriors. But now a messenger came from them with the tidings that, counter to his predictions, the balls of the whites came straight, and that his men were falling. “Fight on! fight on!” cried the Prophet, “it will soon be as I said;” and when his answer was borne to his warriors, they again rushed upon their enemies, and the tomahawk struggled for life or death with the musket. The bayonet was pushed aside and the soldier brained with the war-club, and hand to hand they fought, and yielded not. On each side would the combatants, with a recklessness of life scarcely ever before witnessed, approach the fires and mend them up, for the purpose of adjusting their firelocks. They then afforded a fair mark, and rarely, if ever, returned to their ranks. Thus they fought until morning dawned; but now that discipline and tactics were brought into play, valour could do no more. The half-armed Indians could no longer contend with deep lines of well armed soldiery. There was no longer hope, and they left the field, and were beaten; yet for the red men who had fallen many times their number of whites had found a sad and speedy death; and among them were several officers—noble spirits—who embodied in their own characters all that was ennobling in human nature, and during the short time of that struggle, won for themselves fame, which will perish only when the battle itself shall be forgotten.