The army trudged slowly through the deep forests,
chopping out its own road, and rarely advancing more than five or
six miles a day. The weather was favorable and game was abundant,
but discontent was rife and desertions became daily occurrences.
As most of the men had no taste for Indian warfare and as their
pay was but two dollars a month, not all the commander's threats
and entreaties could hold them in order.
On the night of the 3d of November the little army--now reduced
to fourteen hundred men--camped, with divisions carelessly
scattered, on the eastern fork of the Wabash, about a hundred
miles north of Cincinnati and near the Indiana border. The next
morning, when preparations were being made for a forced march
against some Indian villages near by, a horde of redskins burst
unexpectedly upon the bewildered troops, surrounded them, and
threatened them with utter destruction. A brave stand was made,
but there was little chance of victory. "After the first on set,"
as Roosevelt has described the battle, "the Indians fought in
silence, no sound coming from them save the incessant rattle of
their fire, as they crept from log to log, from tree to tree,
ever closer and closer.
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