Logan ordered his men to spread out in a longer and thinner line, although he kept at least fifty of his best about the cannon to prevent any attempt at capture. The twelve-pounder may not have done much execution upon an enemy who fought chiefly from shelter, but he knew that its effect was terrifying, and he did not mean to lose the gun. His precaution was taken well, as a picked band of Wyandots, Shawnees and Miamis, springing suddenly from the undergrowth, made a determined charge to the very muzzle of the cannon. There was close fighting, hand to hand, the shock of white bodies against red, the flash of exploding powder and the glitter of steel, but the red band was at last driven back, although not without loss to the defenders. The struggle had been so desperate that Colonel Logan drew more men about the cannon, and then pressed on again. The firing to the north was growing louder, indicating that Clark, too, was pushing his way through the forest. The two forces were now not much more than a mile apart, and Simon Kenton shouted that the battle would cease inside of five minutes. Kenton was a prophet. Almost at the very moment predicted by him the Indian fire stopped with a suddenness that seemed miraculous. Every dusky flitting form vanished. No more jets of flame arose, the smoke floated idly about as if it had been made by bush fires, and Logan's men found that nobody was before them. There was something weird and uncanny about it. The sudden disappearance of so strong and numerous an enemy seemed to partake of magic. But Henry understood well. Always a shrewd general, Timmendiquas, seeing that the battle was lost, and that he might soon be caught in an unescapable trap, had ordered the warriors to give up the fight, and slip away through the woods. Pressing forward with fiery zeal and energy, Clark and Logan met in the forest and grasped hands. The two forces fused at the same time and raised a tremendous cheer. They had beaten the allied tribes once more, and had formed the union which they believed would make them invincible. A thousand foresters, skilled in every wile and strategy of Indian war were indeed a formidable force, and they had a thorough right to rejoice, as they stood there in the wilderness greeting one another after a signal triumph. Save for the fallen, there was no longer a sign of the warriors. All their wounded had been taken away with them. "I heard your cannon shot, just when I was beginning to give up hope," said Colonel Clark to Colonel Logan. "And you don't know how welcome your reply was," replied Logan, "but it was all due to a great boy named Henry Ware." "So he got through?"