About half an hour before sunrise on the fourth of November, the Indians fiercely attacked the militia posted in front of the main army. The first ranks made a slight resistance and then fell back in wild disorder to the main camp. The overwhelming force of savages, led by their most distinguished chiefs, came rushing on with yells of fury, creating panic and confusion impossible to describe. Then began a desperate fight and a fearful slaughter. Though taken completely by surprise, the brave soldiers seized their arms, rallied under their respective leaders, and stood their ground like heroes. Their first regular fire checked the onset of the foe to some degree, but the Indians were too great in numbers and held too great an advantage to give way permanently. In a short time our gallant soldiers were violently assailed on all sides, and officers and men went down before the deadly rifle fire like leaves before the blasts of autumn wind. Several charges were ordered and made with great spirit. The savages at times gave way before the impetuous charges of their disciplined foes, yet it was only to rally in greater force and to press more fearfully upon some weaker point. For three hours the battle raged with wild fury, and the ground everywhere was covered with the dead and dying. General St. Clair saw with dismay that the day was hopelessly lost. Four of his own horses had already been killed, his clothes were riddled with bullets, and nearly every officer had been cut down. Under these distressing circumstances, there was but one thing for him to do. He gave the order to retreat. This retreat, as might have been anticipated, soon became a rout of the most terrible kind. The Indians, finding themselves masters of the field and finding their enemies flying in wild disorder, rushed after the fugitives with yells of triumph. They followed the soldiers for four or five miles, shooting, tomahawking, or scalping all they could overtake. Then the most eager of the savages, satisfied with their morning’s work, gave up the chase and returned to the battlefield to gather the scalps of the dead and dying. Nearly all of the wounded were butchered. Those unfortunate ones who had been taken unharmed were generally reserved for later tortures, and there were enough captives to provide many holidays for the different tribes. We have thus given a brief sketch of the disaster on that woeful day. The details of that horrifying scene of conflict would fill volumes. This we cannot do. We can, however, piece together a narrative from the records of the actors in that dreadful tragedy. It is our purpose to publish the story of Robert Branshaw, a Kentuckian, who has left behind him an account of what he saw and did on that memorable day.