Suddenly three Indians appeared, making their way directly towards the army. The Prophet's chief counsellor, with two interpreters, had come to demand the reason of this warlike advance. Peace, they declared, was their one desire. With much gesticulation they explained that messages to that effect had been sent by certain chiefs, who must have taken the other trail and so missed the general of the Seventeen Fires. The governor agreed to suspend hostilities in order that terms of peace might be arranged in council on the following day, and then set his men in motion towards Tippecanoe. This unlooked-for action startled the Indians, who immediately assumed the defensive. The governor, however, assured them that he had no hostile intentions, and asked whether there was a near-by stream by the side of which his troops might encamp. He was directed to a creek about a mile distant which ran through the prairie to the north of the town. Thither the Americans at once proceeded, and finding it a most desirable camping-ground, the soldiers were soon busily engaged in pitching their tents and gathering brushwood to make fires, for the November air was chill. Although no attack was anticipated, Harrison arranged his camp as if expecting battle, and posted around it a thin line of sentries. Darkness fell upon the two encampments. The weary soldiers were sleeping on their arms; the Prophet and his counsellors sat about their council fire, eager and alert, earnestly discussing the situation. Tecumseh's parting injunction had been to maintain peace at all hazards until his return. But the Prophet saw himself surrounded by intrepid warriors who would dare anything at his command, and his ambition was sorely tempted. In point of numbers his force was equal to that of the Americans, and the latter, moreover, were without the protection of fortifications. Visions of certain victory passed before his mind. He was still smarting from Harrison's stinging message to the tribes five years before, and not too well pleased with Tecumseh's rising fame, which threatened to eclipse his own. Moved by these thoughts, the Prophet yielded to the counsel of his boldest warriors and decided upon battle. Hurried preparations were then made to take the enemy by surprise. There was no moon and the sky was clouded. Nature herself apparently was aiding the Prophet's plans. All being ready, he concocted some charmed fluid, over which he muttered curious incantations. He assured his credulous followers that half the enemy were mad and the remainder dead; and he solemnly promised them that bullets would glance harmlessly from their own bodies. The superstitious Indians, thus excited to an intense pitch of religious fanaticism, were prepared to dare anything.