After a scant breakfast, the soldiers busied themselves about the camp, righting overturned vehicles, securing stampeded animals, interring the dead, and throwing up a ring of fortifications. Governor Harrison deemed the latter proceeding a necessary precaution. He thought the savages might renew the battle as soon as darkness came again. The day passed. Night came—a night of feverish expectancy and unrest to the exhausted soldiers. Joe Farley and Bright Wing did not sleep, but sat by the fire all night long, starting at every unusual sound and longing for morning. All the afternoon they had searched for Ross Douglas and his dog, but had found no trace of either. It was the opinion of all to whom they spoke, that the rash young scout had ventured too far in pursuit of the savages and had been killed or captured. Dawn came at last. After breakfast, General Wells took the dragoons and mounted riflemen and went to reconnoiter the Prophet’s Town. Farley and Bright Wing obtained permission to accompany the detachment. The general found the place deserted. But one inhabitant remained within its walls—a chief with a broken leg. The whites dressed his wound and made other provision for him, and told him to say to his people that if they would desert the standard of the Prophet and return to their own tribes, they would be forgiven. The troops found a large quantity of corn, which was very acceptable; also some hogs and domestic fowls. These they removed to their camp. The savages had fled precipitately, leaving many of their arms and household utensils behind them. A large number of the guns were yet wrapped in the coverings in which the British had imported them. Farley and Bright Wing found no trace of their friend, until they were slowly and sadly returning to camp. Then, a hundred yards from the northeastern gate of the palisade, Joe picked up a silver button belonging to Douglas’s hunting-shirt. He showed it to the Wyandot, who simply nodded meaningly and pointed in the direction in which the Prophet’s followers had fled. On reaching camp, Farley carried the memento to Governor Harrison and remarked: “Gov’nor, Ross Douglas has been missin’ sence the battle. I picked up this button close to the Prophet’s Town. Ross is a pris’ner ’mong the Injins, as sure’s shootin’—him an’ his dog, too.” “How did it happen?” cried Harrison. “I don’t know. But me and Bright Wing wants to foller the dang redskins an’ try to rescue him——” “It’s madness to think of such a thing,” the governor interrupted. “You’ll throw away your lives to no purpose.” “It don’t make no differ’nce,” Joe said doggedly. “Life ain’t worth _much_ to such poor scamps as me, at best—an’ it won’t be worth _nothin’_ if Ross Douglas is tortured an’ killed by the Injins. No, gov’nor, me an’ Bright Wing’s goin’ after him. You’ll give us leave to go—an’ not have us desert, won’t you, gov’nor?” Joe asked the question pleadingly, tears standing in his pale, watery eyes.