Tecumseh grew so angry at the resolute demeanor of the whites that he sprang furiously to his feet and the warriors brandished their arms threateningly. Harrison was not troubled by their hostile display. He rose and drew his sword and his guard got ready to fire, but he ordered them not to do so and told Tecumseh that he could go away unharmed. This bold and spirited behavior cowed the savages and four hundred of them marched away in the face of a score with a man of resolution at their head.

For two years there was no more trouble. Tecumseh and his brother continued their insidious work, but the tribes feared to rise. Meanwhile settlers were pouring rapidly into the Territory and it began to look as if the hunting-grounds of the Indians would soon be lost to them. There is reason to believe that about this time British agents, foreseeing the coming war, stirred up the tribesmen, for their old ravages against the settlers began again. Tecumseh, inspired perhaps by hopes of British aid, grew more active than ever in seeking to form an alliance of the tribes, and in 1811 sought the Southern States to bring the Indians of that region into his organization.

During his absence Governor Harrison, determined to put an end to the attacks on the settlers, gathered a force of nine hundred men and marched against the hostile tribes, encamping at a place called Tippecanoe, where a body of several thousand Indians had gathered. Tecumseh, a skilled and able leader, had forbidden his followers to take any action before he gave them the word, but his excitable brother, the Prophet, now stirred up his followers to war, telling them that by his charms he could protect them against bullets and bayonets.

The chiefs had visited Harrison's tent, pretending to be peaceable, but on the night of November 7 they crept covertly on his camp, expecting to find the soldiers asleep and defenceless. Fortunately Harrison had not trusted them. The soldiers lay with their guns beside them and at the first savage yell were up and in line. The fire of the Indians was met by a withering volley, against which the charms of the Prophet proved useless, and after a severe struggle, in which they lost heavily, they broke and fled to the swamps, leaving Harrison the victor of Tippecanoe. Thirty years later, when he was a candidate for the Presidency, this battle became famous, and "Old Tippecanoe" was the war-cry of his followers.

When the war with Great Britain broke out in the following year Harrison was commissioned a brigadiergeneral, and was raised in rank to major-general in 1813. Of the three divisions of the army operating against Canada, Harrison was put in command of that acting against Detroit, which General Hull had surrendered to the British early in the war. The troops under him were volunteers, effective in scattered fights and operations against the Indians, but unfit to stand in battle against disciplined soldiers. His attempts to expel the British from Detroit were therefore ineffectual. When the winter of 1812-13 came on and the swamps and lakes of the Northwest were sufficiently frozen to bear the weight of marching soldiers, a second demonstration was made against Detroit. But in this Harrison's advance, under General Winchester, was attacked by the British under Proctor, and Winchester surrendered as promptly as Hull had done before him.

The disaster forced Harrison to retreat to Fort

Meigs, where he successfully sustained two sieges by General Proctor, who was repulsed on both occasions. Harrison's opportunity came in October, 1813, after the victory of Perry on Lake Erie. Perry took Harrison's troops on board his vessels and carried them to Canada, where they advanced against their old antagonist, General Proctor. The latter retreated to the line of the Thames River, where he selected a good battle-ground and awaited the Americans. In addition to his regulars, he had with him fifteen hundred Indians, under their famous chief Tecumseh, who had been made a brigadier-general in the British army.

The Americans attacked on the 5th of October, and one of the most important battles of the war began. Proctor, who seems to have been a thing of show and bluster rather than a man of valor, fled early in the fight, leaving his soldiers to hold their ground as they could. The regulars fought bravely, and so did the Indians, under their skilled and daring leader. But in the thick of the battle a bullet laid low brave Tecumseh and his disheartened followers broke and fled. The regulars, their support lost, were obliged to surrender, leaving the Americans full masters of the field. This victory was quickly followed by the capture of Detroit, with which event the war ended in the West.

Some anecdotes are told of General Harrison's lack of ostentation and his popularity with his soldiers, one or two of which will bear repeating. Once when he, with a small force, was making his way through the forest, night and rain came on together. They had no axes, the ground was water-soaked, and they could build no fires. Food also was lacking, and they passed the night in hunger, Harrison with no more comforts than his men, leaning against the trees or sitting on

fallen logs. In the middle of the night, to cheer them up, he asked one of the men to sing a comic Irish song, and the laughter that followed acted like a tonic upon their weary frames.

Another story reminds us of Marion's sweet-potato feast with the British officer. Harrison had captured four British officers and asked them to take supper with him. To the surprise, and somewhat to the disgust, of the Britons, the best he had to offer them was beef, roasted in the fire, and eaten without bread or salt.

The war ended, Harrison was elected in 1816 to represent Cincinnati in Congress, and there proved that he was as good a speaker as he was a soldier. He was voted a gold medal for his services in the war. In 1824 he was elected a member of the Senate, and in 1828 was sent as minister to the republic of Colombia, but was recalled by President Jackson in the following spring. After that he passed years in private life on his farm at North Bend, on the Ohio River. Though a great man in the eyes of his countrymen, he was content to take up the simple duties of farm life, and when one of his relatives left him a whiskey distillery, he refused to accept it, though at a great loss to himself. His temperance principles would not permit him to make and sell liquid poison.

In 1836 the Whigs of the country took up this North Bend farmer as their candidate for President, and gave him seventy-three electoral votes, though he was defeated by Van Buren. He ran again in 1840, this campaign being the most original and spectacular in the history of the Presidency. Van Buren was again his opponent, and early in the campaign the Baltimore Republican made the slurring remark that if some one

would pension General Harrison with a few hundred dollars and give him a barrel of hard cider he would sit down in his log cabin and be content for the rest of his life.

The foolish slur proved the keynote of the campaign. Log cabins and hard cider were the ammunition of the Whigs. In every city and every village and at the country cross-roads log cabins were built and enough hard cider was drunk to float a battleship. Scores of campaign songs were written and sung, "Old Tippecanoe" being the burden. A disgusted Democrat said that from the opening of the canvass the whole Whig party went on a colossal spree on hard cider, which continued until Harrison was installed as President in the White House; he being triumphantly elected, with an electoral vote of two hundred and thirty-four against sixty for Van Buren.

Harrison was now sixty-eight years old, and was far from strong. He wore no hat or overcoat while delivering his inaugural address, and felt the effect of his imprudence, despite his long seasoning in hardships. To the weakening effect of the severe cold which he caught was added the persistent annoyance of office-seekers, who buzzed around him like pestilent bees and almost drove him frantic. The result of all this was an attack of pneumonia, and he died on the 4th of April, 1841, just one month after his inauguration. He was the first President to die in office, and an immense concourse attended his funeral, his remains being interred near his home at North Bend, Ohio.