Act 3 — SCENE SIXTH.—MORNING. THE FIELD OF TIPPECANOE AFTER THE BATTLE. THE GROUND STREWN WITH DEAD SOLDIERS AND WARRIORS.

Enter HARRISON, officers and soldiers and BARRON.

HARRISON. A costly triumph reckoned by our slain! Look how some lie still clenched with savages In all-embracing death, their bloody hands Glued in each other's hair! Make burial straight Of all alike in deep and common graves: Their quarrel now is ended.

1ST OFFICER. I have heard. The red man fears our steel—'twas not so here; From the first shots, which drove our pickets in, Till daylight dawned they rushed upon our lines, And flung themselves upon our bayonet points In frenzied recklessness of bravery.

BARRON. They trusted in the Prophet's rites and spells, Which promised them immunity from death. All night he sat on yon safe eminence, Howling his songs of war and mystery, Then fled, at dawn, in fear of his own braves.

[Enter an AIDE]

HARRISON. What tidings bring you from the Prophet's Town?

AIDE. The wretched women with their children fly To distant forests for concealment. In Their village is no living thing save mice Which scampered as we oped each cabin door. Their pots still simmered on the vacant hearths, Standing in dusty silence and desertion. Naught else we saw, save that their granaries Were crammed with needful corn.

HARRISON. Go bring it all— Then burn their village down!

[Exit AIDE.]

2ND OFFICER. This victory Will shake Tecumseh's project to the base Were I the Prophet I should drown myself Rather than meet him.

BARRON. We have news of him— Our scouts report him near in heavy force.

HARRISON. 'Twill melt or draw across the British line, And wait for war. But double the night watch, Lest he should strike, and give an instant care To all our wounded men: to-morrow's sun Must light us on our backward march for home Thence Rumour's tongue will spread so proud a story New England will grow envious of our glory; And, greedy for renown so long abhorred, Will on old England draw the tardy sword!