An event now took place that at once exhibited both the wily strategy of the Little Turtle as a military leader, and the blundering bravado of Colonel John Hardin. On the morning of the nineteenth, Hardin moved forward over the Indian trail leading to the northwest. At a distance of some five or six miles from the main army, the detachment came upon an abandoned Indian camp. Here a halt was made, probably to examine the ground, when Hardin hurriedly ordered another advance, thinking he was close on the heels of fleeing red men. In the confusion attending this second movement, Captain Faulkner's company was left in the rear. Hardin now proceeded about three miles, and had routed two Indians out of the thicket, when he suddenly discovered that he had left Faulkner behind. He now dispatched Major James Fontaine with a part of the cavalry to locate that officer. About this time Captain John Armstrong, who was in command of a little company of thirty regulars marching with the militia, informed Hardin that a gun had been fired in front of them which he thought was an alarm gun, and that he had discovered the tracks of a horse that had come down the trail and had returned. Hardin with a dare-devil indifference paid no attention. He moved rapidly on without scouts and without flankers. Armstrong now warned Hardin a second time. He said that he had located the camp fires of the Indians and that they must be close at hand. Hardin rode on, swearing that the Indians would not fight. All at once the army marched into the entrance of a narrow prairie, flanked on each side by heavy timber. At the far end of the prairie a fire had been kindled and some trinkets placed in the trail. The front columns came up to these baubles and halted--the whole detachment, save Faulkner's company, was in the defile. To the right and left of them, concealed in the underbrush, were three hundred Miamis, led by the Little Turtle. The Indians had divided and "back-tracked" the trail, and were now watching the Americans enter the trap. At the moment the army halted, a furious fire was opened, and all but nine of the militia at once fled, carrying Hardin along with them. The company of Faulkner, coming up in the rear, suddenly saw two horsemen approaching. Each of them had a wounded man behind him covered with blood. The fugitives were yelling: "For God's sake retreat! You will all be killed! There are Indians enough to eat you all up!" The regulars, however, true to tradition, stood their ground. All were stricken down in their tracks except five or six privates, and their captain and ensign. Captain Armstrong sank to his neck in a morass, and the savages did not find him. "The Indians remained on the field; and the ensuing night, held the dance of victory, over the dead and dying bodies of their enemies, exulting with frantic gestures, and savage yells, during the ceremony." The captain was a witness of it all. The scene of this conflict was at