Four uneventful days followed. The night of the 13th was calm and cloudless. About Fort Malden sentries paced their ceaseless round. Camp-fires glowed about the wigwams and blockhouses of Bois Blanc. Tecumseh lay in the open, surrounded by his sleeping warriors. Although it was past midnight, his sleepless eyes scanned the heavens. The moon cast a shimmering path upon the water, in whose depths myriads of stars were reflected. Even as Tecumseh gazed a bright star sped like a golden arrow across the sky. He marked its flight until it fell afar and seemed to cleave the dark depths of the river. What did this fiery messenger portend? Again a youth, he threaded his way through the gloom of the forest, seeking the guiding spirit of his manhood, until a bright star fell across his path. Then, in vivid memory, came the tortures of initiation. A man, he journeyed in strange lands beneath a scorching sun, or felt the biting winter blasts. Again his heart beat high with hope, only to be cast down by the crushing defeat of his plans. But still, upborne by almost superhuman strength, urged by some strange, impelling power, he must battle for his race. The restless river, as it fretted the sides of the little island placed so protectingly against the Canadian shore, sang of battle, whose outcome none might guess. Suddenly he was aroused from his waking dream by shouts of joy and the booming of cannon from the decks of the _General Hunter_, which lay at anchor in the river. It was a salute in honour of the arrival of General Brock. A vigorous cheer announced his appearance at Fort Malden. The Indians joined in the welcome and fired off their muskets. A boat made its way towards the island, and the warriors crowded about it as Colonel Elliott stepped ashore. He gave them official information of Brock's arrival, and warned the Indians to save their scanty ammunition. Notwithstanding the lateness of the hour, Tecumseh with his attendant chiefs accompanied Elliott back to the fort to meet the commander in whose hands he had placed the fate of his people. Arrived at Amherstburg, Elliott replied to the sentry's challenge, and they entered the fort. On reaching the room in which Brock sat, they found him deeply engrossed in the contents of the captured mail packets, which were strewn on the table before him, for these told him that General Hull had lost the confidence of his garrison at Detroit, and that dissensions had destroyed all unity of purpose among the officers. The candlelight streamed on his red-brown hair and shone on the gold-fringed epaulets of his scarlet uniform. Elliott at once presented Tecumseh to Brock. The latter raised his eyes to behold 'the king of the woods,' whose very presence seemed to exhale the freedom of the forest. One of the best pen-portraits extant of Tecumseh is by Captain Glegg, who thus describes him upon this occasion of his presentation to Brock: