Meanwhile the Indians were by no means idle. All night long the chiefs sat in council. A dozen different plans for the attack were proposed. At one time it was decided to meet the whites in council on the next day, agree to their proposals, and withdraw, leaving behind two Winnebagos, who were to rush forward and assassinate the Governor. This was to be the signal for battle. Later in the night, which was dark and rainy, the plan was changed. The Prophet, mixing some mysterious concoction of "hell-broth," pretended to read in it the fact that one-half of Harrison's army was dead and the other half crazy. Encouraged by this assurance, the whole body of warriors, at four o'clock in the morning, began to creep across the miry prairie toward the American camp.
A little after four in the morning, a sentinel who was gazing on the wide prairie before him, had his attention roused by a strange movement on its surface. Not a breath of wind was stirring, yet the tall grass was waving as if under the influence of a strong breeze. Rapidly the noiseless waves approached nearer till they broke against the rising ground at his feet. "Who goes there?" he shouted, but no voice answered. Suddenly, with the quick thought of a backwoodsman, he stooped down, and looking _through and under_ the grass, beheld an Indian stealthily creeping toward him! He fired; in an instant a tremendous war-whoop, the nightmare of all who slept in a hostile Indian country, was heard on all sides, and the force of savage warriors rushed upon the American lines. The Indians were commanded by White Loon, Stone Eater and Winnemac, the Pottawatomie chief who had professed so much friendship for the Governor, at the time of the first council at Vincennes. The guard gave way at the point of attack, but the men who had been sleeping on their arms were immediately prepared to receive the Indians bravely. The suddenness of the attack might have created a panic even among veterans, yet the men stood their ground, though only one in twenty had ever been under fire before. But many of them were Kentuckians, and "the bravest of the brave."
The camp-fires were quickly extinguished, that their light might not assist the Indians, and the battle raged in the darkness on all sides. Elskwatawa had prophesied that the American bullets would rebound from the bodies of the Indians, and that they would be provided with light, while all would be "thick darkness" to their enemies. He had evidently heard of Moses and Pharaoh. For some reason, however, he did not personally try the truth of his prophecies by engaging in the fight; unwilling "to attest at once the rival powers of a sham prophecy and a real American bullet." Stationing himself on a small hill near at hand, he chanted a war-song, and presided like an evil genius over this battle. Though invisible in the darkness, his shrill and piercing voice could be distinctly heard above the noise. To the messengers that came to tell him that, despite his assurances, his followers were falling, he said: "Tell them to keep on fighting and it will be as the Prophet has said."