from Sir James Craig, and since repeated by Your
Excellency.'

Precisely at noon Brock took his stand beneath a giant
oak at Amherstburg surrounded by his officers. Before
him sat Tecumseh. Behind Tecumseh sat the chiefs; and
behind the chiefs a thousand Indians in their war-paint.
Brock then stepped forward to address them. Erect, alert,
broad-shouldered, and magnificently tall; blue-eyed,
fair-haired, with frank and handsome countenance; he
looked every inch the champion of a great and righteous
cause. He said the Long Knives had come to take away the
land from both the Indians and the British whites, and
that now he would not be content merely to repulse them,
but would follow and beat them on their own side of the
Detroit. After the pause that was usual on grave occasions,
Tecumseh rose and answered for all his followers. He
stood there the ideal of an Indian chief: tall, stately,
and commanding; yet tense, lithe, observant, and always
ready for his spring. He the tiger, Brock the lion; and
both unflinchingly at bay.

Next morning, August 15, an early start was made for
Sandwich, some twelve miles north, where a five-gun
battery was waiting to be unmasked against Detroit across
the river. Arrived at Sandwich, Brock immediately sent
across his aide-de-camp, Colonel Macdonell, with a letter
summoning Hull to surrender. Hull wrote back to say he
was prepared to stand his ground. Brock at once unmasked
his battery and made ready to attack next day. With the