vious engagement, they were to remain till the signal was given by the girl to move on. Her absence for the space of a quartet of an hour began to excite the most serious apprehensions. Again she appeared, and told thein she had succeeded in removing two sentinels to a short distance, who were directly in their route.
" The descent was noiselessly resumed, and the spies followed their intrepid leader for a half mile in the most profound silence, when the barking of a dog at a short distance apprised them of new danger. The almost simultaneous click of the spies' rifles was heard by the girl, who stated that they were now in the midst of the Indian camps, and their lives now depended on the most profound silence and implicitly following her footsteps. A moment afterward the girl was accosted by a squaw from an opening in her wigwam; she replied in the Indian language, and without stopping, still pressed forward. In a short time she stopped, and assured the spies that the village was now cleared, and that they had passed the greatest danger. She knew that every leading path was guarded safely by the Indians, and at once resolved to adopt the bold adventure of passing through the center of the village as the least hazardous, and the sequel proved the correctness of her judgment. They now steered a course for the Ohio River, and, after three days' travel, arrived safely at the block-house. Their escape and adventure prevented the Indians from their contemplated attack. The rescued girl proved to be the sister of the intrepid Corneal Washburn, celebrated in the history of Indian warfare and as the renowned spy of Captain Simon Kenton's bloody Kentuckians."
After their failure on the part of the savages in their attempted surprise of Fort Harmar, the western tribes again withdrew to their villages on the Maumee and Auglaize rivers. General Harmar now resolved to punish them in their own country. He advanced cautiously from Fort Washington in October, 1790, to destroy their villages on the Maumee. Upon reaching