were the smouldering fires, still sending up their wreaths of smoke;
everything bore traces of recent and hasty retreat; and gave reason to
believe that the savages were still lurking in the neighborhood. With
heedless daring, Vanderburgh put himself upon their trail, to trace them
to their place of concealment: It led him over prairies, and through
skirts of woodland, until it entered a dark and dangerous ravine.
Vanderburgh pushed in, without hesitation, followed by his little
band. They soon found themselves in a gloomy dell, between steep banks
overhung with trees, where the profound silence was only broken by the
tramp of their own horses.

Suddenly the horrid war-whoop burst on their ears, mingled with the
sharp report of rifles, and a legion of savages sprang from their
concealments, yelling, and shaking their buffalo robes to frighten
the horses. Vanderburgh's horse fell, mortally wounded by the first
discharge. In his fall he pinned his rider to the ground, who called
in vain upon his men to assist in extricating him. One was shot down
scalped a few paces distant; most of the others were severely wounded,
and sought their safety in flight. The savages approached to dispatch
the unfortunate leader, as he lay struggling beneath his horse.. He
had still his rifle in his hand and his pistols in his belt. The first
savage that advanced received the contents of the rifle in his breast,
and fell dead upon the spot; but before Vanderburgh could draw a pistol,
a blow from a tomahawk laid him prostrate, and he was dispatched by
repeated wounds.

Such was the fate of Major Henry Vanderburgh, one of the best and
worthiest leaders of the American Fur Company, who by his manly bearing
and dauntless courage is said to have made himself universally popular
among the bold-hearted rovers of the wilderness.