“No! It’s true! I’ve been within a hundred yards of them. It’s true! I swear it.” Another horseman wearing the shoulder straps of a major dashed up. “General!” he cried. “They’re in open order. I’ve just----” “Enough!” Harrison spun around. “By God! We’ve got them! Mr. Telfair, tell Colonel Johnson my orders are to charge home.” He swung around. “Major Wood, tell Colonel Trotter the plans have been changed. Colonel Johnson will attack on horseback and the infantry will support him. Go!” Ten minutes later the Kentucky cavalry rode into the narrowing neck between the river and the small swamp. As they crowded in, the space grew too small for effective manœuvres. Colonel R. H. Johnson, afterward to be elected vice-president of the United States, rode at the head of the left-hand squadron, naked saber resting against his shoulder. He noticed the constriction and called to his brother, commanding the right-hand column. “Say, Jim,” he cried. “You handle the British. I’ll cross the swamp and tackle Tecumseh.” He turned to his men. “Column left,” he ordered. Jack, defiant of the rule that bade him rejoin General Harrison, once his message had been delivered, had followed close at Colonel Johnson’s heels. Now, he sped across to those of Lieutenant-Colonel James Johnson. “Attention!” James’s voice rang above the thudding hoofs. “By troops! Right front into line. March.” The shimmering column broke up, dividing into four. “Forward! Steady! Right dress. Forward!” Quickly the orders followed. James faced about. “Advance rifles,” he ordered; and the muskets rattled as they fell into position. The woods in front were veiled in smoke. The rattle of small arms was incessant. The screech of bullets filled the air. Here and there a man fell forward, clutching at his horse’s neck. Here and there one swayed and crashed to the ground. Over all the sunlight pulsed in bands of fire. Coolly James’s voice arose. “Hold your fire till you can see the whites of their eyes,” he ordered. “Then give ’em h--l.” He waved his sword. “Forward! Gallop!” he cried. The pace quickened. The ground was becoming more open and the enemy’s bullets were coming faster. But the Americans did not fire. They could not see the foe in the tangled thicket ahead of them, and they had no shots to waste. “Form for attack! By fours! Right front into line! March!” The columns broke up, changing, as if by magic, into a long double line of horsemen, galloping toward the smoking woods. “Forward! Remember the Raisin! Charge!” The trumpets sounded and from the crowding horsemen rose a yell. “Remember the Raisin;” loud and thrilling the cry echoed back from the woods. The horses sprang forward, furious with the battle clangor. Still the Americans did not fire. Their first weapon was the running horse; against the enemy’s lines they hurled him. Later they would use their muskets and the long pistols that hung at their belts.