Author of “To the Land of the Caribou,” “In Camp on Bass Island,” etc.
ILLUSTRATED
NEW YORK AND LONDON
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY
1924
Copyright, 1915,
By D. APPLETON AND COMPANY
Printed in the United States of America
PREFACE
v
The adventures and experiences of the hardy settlers
on the continually advancing frontier have provided a
fascinating but comparatively unknown chapter in the
history of our country. Romance, bitter prejudice,
distorted tales, and traditions more or less trustworthy,
have combined to create a strong interest in the
Indians. So much, however, has been written of a sensational
and improbable nature that the result has not
always been desirable. Just as there were “good” Indians
and “bad” Indians, so the stories of Indians
have ofttimes created impressions that were erroneous
or even false.
The appeal of Indian life and of Indian wars, however,
is perpetually strong. Who these early inhabitants
of America were, what they did, how they lived
and how they fought their battles, why they were engaged
in conflicts with the early settlers and our troops,
are essential parts of our history. The names of King
Philip, Massasoit, Brandt, Tecumseh, Pontiac, Red
Jacket, Black Hawk, Keokuk, Ouray, Sitting Bull and
others are perhaps well known, but just what is behind
the names is not so commonly understood.
viAnd yet all this is a legitimate part of our history,
which every American, and particularly every young
American ought to know and wants to know. Even if
it is impossible for him properly to understand the
vanishing race he ought not to be ignorant of, nor forget,
the struggle of those early days.
Black Hawk’s War occurred in 1832. Against the
encroachments of the whites and their undeniable injustice,
the Indians opposed their own methods of
making war. The extermination of families, the lack
of mercy, even the blood-thirstiness of the redmen
were among their customary methods of making war
and were universally recognized as such by their
enemies of their own color. Black Hawk assuredly
was a patriot, courageously fighting the battles of his
own people. This story is an attempt to follow facts
and events of that struggle as they occurred.
The author has followed the suggestions of many
librarians and teachers and has cast his narrative into
the form of a story. In the main part the story is
true and the aim of its writer has been to present a
picture of the struggle of the settlers with the Indians,
the work of our army and the daring of Black Hawk
and his braves. The justice or injustice of the conflict
will be understood by those who may follow the
fortunes of the courageous chieftain. At all events the
young readers ought to appreciate more fully the
value and the cost of the land, the privileges and the
homes they now possess.
The character of Black Hawk is unique. He was a
natural leader, overcoming opposition in the tribes he
led, as well as bravely facing his foes.
viiThe events incorporated in this tale are based upon
facts. The license of a storyteller has been freely
used, but the basis of the book is true. The final defeat
of Black Hawk, his visit at the capital of the
nation and in some of the largest cites, the impression
upon the old warrior in his receptions by the whites
of the East, all are elements in his life which must be
known in order to appreciate correctly the character
of this famous Indian chief.
To those who are interested the following bibliography
may be suggestive:
Armstrong, The Sauks and the Black Hawk War, 1887.
Beckwith, H. W., Illinois and Indiana Indians, 1884.
Blanchard, Rufus, History of Illinois.
Carpenter, R. V., The Indian Statue, near Oregon, Illinois.
Chetlain, A. L., The Black Hawk War of 1832.
Davison, Alexander & Stuve, B., Black Hawk War.
Goodrich, S. I., Lives of Celebrated American Indians.
McIntosh, John, Speech of Black Hawk when he surrendered himself to the agent at Prairie Du Chien.
Moses, John, Black Hawk War.
Parrish, Randall, The Struggle with Black Hawk.
Paterson, J. B., Autobiography of Black Hawk.
Snyder, J. F., The Burial and Resurrection of Black Hawk.
Stevens, F. E., The Black Hawk War, including a Review of Black Hawk’s Life.
Steward, J. F., Sac and Fox Trail.
Thwaites, R. G., The Black Hawk War.
viiiIf his young readers shall be sufficiently interested
in this story of Black Hawk to follow the struggles by
which America was won as they are recorded in our
historical works, the writer will feel that his purpose
in part at least has been accomplished.
Joseph Hall was the speaker. With his
parents, two sisters and a brother he lived on
the American frontier in Illinois. In these
days a reference to that part of the country as
“the frontier” would cause a smile to appear
on the faces of those who might hear such a
statement, but in the year 1832, when the scene
of this story is laid, Illinois was very far west.
On Indian Creek, near its junction with Fox
River, in a little clearing in the forest, the Hall
family dwelt and made a hard living from the
soil and from the game they might secure with
the rifle.
Ten years before this time they had forced
their way westward from eastern Pennsylvania
and had hewn a home for themselves out of
2the wilderness. At that time Joseph and his
younger brother Robert were only nine and
seven years old, respectively. Brought up in
the woods and on the prairies they had learned
the wisdom of the forest, the secrets of the
trees, the flowers and the streams; they knew
the habits of the wild animals and the favorite
pools of the fish. Thorough woodsmen they
were both of them, sound in mind and strong
in body. Fatigue was almost unknown to these
boys, and to endure hardships was a part of
their everyday life.
It was now spring. The sun was warm and
the trees were bursting with new life as the
days grew longer and summer approached.
The time had come when the crops must be
planted and it was in this occupation that the
two boys were engaged when Joseph made his
remark concerning Black Hawk. A space several
acres in extent, had been cleared in the
heart of the forest and here it was that the Hall
family eked out a scanty existence.
At one end of the clearing stood their home.
A rough log cabin was all it was, but it was
home and consequently was very dear to the
Halls. In the rear the clearing ran down to
3the edge of the woods and as much as possible
of this land was under cultivation. Year by
year the clearing had been enlarged until now
it occupied a considerable extent. Joseph and
Robert were busy at the opposite end from the
place where their home stood.
“Black Hawk on the trail again!” exclaimed
Robert in response to his brother’s remark.
“Exactly.”
“Who told you?”
“Deerfoot. I saw him early this morning
down by the river.”
Deerfoot was a Pottowattomie Indian,
friendly to the white settlers and to the Halls
in particular. He had taught Joseph and Robert
much of what they knew of woodcraft and
that he was a skillful teacher was attested by
the prowess the two boys had acquired.
“Is it serious?” demanded Robert anxiously.
He had been removing weeds from the newly
sprouted cornfield and he leaned on his hoe as
he waited for his brother’s reply.
“Deerfoot says it is,” replied Joseph. “He
says that Black Hawk is very angry and means
business this time.”
“But what’s it all about?” Robert insisted.
4“The same old trouble. Black Hawk doesn’t
want to leave this side of the Mississippi and
doesn’t intend to either, if he can help it.”
“He signed a treaty nearly thirty years ago
saying he would go, didn’t he?”
“I know it,” said Joseph. “According to
Deerfoot, though, Black Hawk thinks he was
deceived at that time and that the treaty doesn’t
bind him. I think that if he had been made to
leave at the time he signed that treaty down
at St. Louis, everything would have been all
right. They told him, however, that he could
stay on until this country was thrown open for
settlement and now that they want him to go
he refuses. At least that’s what father thinks.”
“Is he going to fight?” exclaimed Robert.
“Deerfoot says so. He told me we’d better
get to some safe place, too.”
“Did you tell father that?”
“I did, but he laughed at me. You know how
he is; he said he wasn’t afraid of all the Indians
in North America.”
“That’s foolish, I think.”
“So do I,” agreed Joseph. “Black Hawk and
his warriors may be right around here now as
far as we know. They’ll start by making war
5on the settlers, too; you know they always do
that. They blame the settlers for taking their
land away from them.”
“How about Keokuk?” demanded Robert.
“He is the head of the Sac tribe, while Black
Hawk is only a smaller chief. What is Keokuk
going to do?”
“He is already across the Mississippi, I understand.
He evidently was willing to go, or
at least he thought that would be the wisest
thing to do. He is not a fighter like Black
Hawk.”
“I should say not,” exclaimed Robert. “Old
Black Hawk has been fighting nearly all his life,
I guess.”
“Ever since he was fifteen years old, so Deerfoot
told me this morning. He is about sixty-five
now, so you see he has been on the warpath
off and on for fifty years. He must be a great
old warrior if all Deerfoot told me is true.”
“What did he tell you?”
“Well,” continued Joseph, “he said that when
Black Hawk was only fifteen he started fighting
and that before he was seventeen he led a
war party against an Osage camp and brought
back several scalps. When he was nineteen he
6led another fight against the Osages and killed
six people with his own hands. A few years
later in another battle he killed nine men single-handed.
In the war of 1812 he sided with the
British and was a terror along the border settlements.
He’s a real old warrior, from all accounts.”
“He must be,” exclaimed Robert. “He
doesn’t think for a minute that he can whip the
United States, though, does he? How many
warriors has he, anyway?”
“About five hundred or more, according to
Deerfoot. He expects, however, that the
Winnebagos, Pottowattomies, and Kickapoos
will go in with him, and if they do they can
make it pretty hot for a while around here.”
“Deerfoot won’t fight, will he?”
“No, indeed,” said Joseph. “At least he said
he wouldn’t fight with Black Hawk. He doesn’t
think that those other three tribes will join
him, either. He thinks Black Hawk will find
only his own men with him when the time
comes.”
“When is the time coming?”
“It has already come. Black Hawk is on the
trail with a party now, and is going to make
7war on the settlers. He expects it will take the
Whites some time to organize and by that time
he himself will have large reinforcements from
the other tribes.”
“Well,” said Robert, “if he intends to make
war on the settlers what is there to prevent him
from picking out the Hall family to start with?”
“Nothing in the world. That’s just what I
said to father, but he told me to pay no attention
to such nonsense. I thought we ought to
have guns out in the field here, but he said not.
Just the same, I sneaked both yours and mine
out of the house and hid them in that bush over
there. Maybe father isn’t worried, but I am.”
“Well, I’m worried, too,” agreed Robert. “I
don’t think I’m a coward by any means, but it
seems to me it is a silly thing to do to stay right
on here as if there was no danger at all, when
at any moment we may be attacked by a band
of hostile Indians.”
“Still,” said Joseph, “we have no special reason
for thinking that we are to be the first ones
attacked. Perhaps if some other family is murdered,
father may realize that it is serious and
move on to some safe place for a while.”
“Yes, and he may wait too long.”
8“You can’t tell father there is any danger,
though.”
“I know it,” agreed Robert. “He holds all
Indians in contempt and thinks they’re all bad.
Why, he hardly treats even Deerfoot like a
human being.”
“Deerfoot knows it, too. I don’t think he
likes father, and if it wasn’t for the rest of us
he wouldn’t be half so friendly.”
“He likes us all right, and he’s been awfully
good to you and me.”
“He certainly has,” exclaimed Joseph
eagerly. “Personally, I think he’d warn us if
he knew that Black Hawk and his band were
coming this way.”
“But he might not know it.”
“I know,” protested Robert, “but you must
remember that in this case it is Indian against
Indian. The Sac tribe is just as clever as the
Pottowattomie, and old Black Hawk is no fool.
You don’t suppose he’d go around telling everybody
just where he intended to strike first, do
you?”
“Perhaps not.”
“Perhaps not,” exclaimed Robert. “You
mean certainly not, I guess. If I intended to
9attack you, you don’t think for an instant that
I’d go around telling everybody, do you? If I
did, some one would be sure to tell you, and
what chance then would I have of being successful?”
“You’d make a great chief, Bob,” said Joseph
laughingly.
“Not at all,” protested Robert. “I’m just
stating what seems to me to be common-sense.”
“You’re right, of course,” agreed Joseph
quickly, becoming serious once more. “I think
we’re in a dangerous position and I wish we
were out of it.”
“Does mother know?”
“Father wouldn’t let me tell her. He said it
would only worry her and the girls, and there
was no use in it.”
“We’ll talk to him tonight, both of us.”
“It won’t do any good, I’m afraid. You know
how stubborn he is. He thinks there’s no danger,
and no one can change his mind by talking
to him.”
“Well,” said Robert, “I hope he’s right. But
if he’s wrong I hope he’ll find it out and change
his mind before it is too late.”
“Anyway,” exclaimed Joseph, “it won’t do us
10any good to stand here and talk about it and it
won’t help the corn to grow, either. Let’s forget
it, if we can.”
The two young pioneers lapsed into silence
and soon the only sound heard in the cornfield
was the click of their hoes as they dug the
weeds out of the soil and cleared a space for
the tender shoots to gain the light and air. The
thought uppermost in the mind of each boy,
however, was of Black Hawk and his band of
marauding warriors.
It is hard for us to understand in these days
what a peril and a menace to frontier life these
hostile Indians were. Every little while word
would come of some family wiped out by the
uprising of a nearby tribe and no one could tell
at just what moment these onslaughts might
come.
Everyone went armed, not only for the sake
of the game which provided much of the food
on which the pioneers lived, but also as a guard
against any surprise attack of warlike redmen.
It is needless to state the country abounded in
“crack shots,” as the most skillful in the use of
the rifle were termed. Ammunition was scarce
and no one could afford to waste powder or
11bullets. Consequently they made every shot
count and it was wonderful to see the skill some
of our early settlers acquired with the rifle. In
this sport, or rather in this serious business,
no one in the region surpassed Joseph Hall and
his brother Robert.
Through the warm spring afternoon the two
brothers toiled on in the cornfield. Their hands
were busy with the hoe and their minds with
thoughts of Black Hawk and his warriors. The
shadows grew longer, and when at last dusk
crept over the land they made ready to cease
work for the day. As they were preparing to
stop, the call of a quail sounded from the woods
close to the place where the two boys were
standing. Both boys were immediately alert.
A moment later the call was repeated.
“Deerfoot,” exclaimed Joseph in a low voice.
The two brothers hastened in the direction
from which the call had been heard and a moment
later discovered their Indian friend hiding
behind a thick bush, waiting for them. He was
nearly exhausted and had evidently traveled
far and fast.
“What is it, Deerfoot?” exclaimed Joseph
eagerly. “What is the trouble?”
12The Indian was panting and a brief time
elapsed before he could speak. Finally he regained
his breath.
“Black Hawk, he come!” gasped Deerfoot,
and he pointed toward the opposite end of the
clearing.
Hardly had he uttered these words when
from the direction of the Hall’s cabin came the
blood-curdling sound of the Indian war whoop.
CHAPTER II PURSUED
13
Both boys immediately darted toward the
bush where their rifles were hidden. Silently
and swiftly they ran and then at their
highest speed returned to the spot where Deerfoot
lay crouched upon the ground. The air
now resounded with the terrible war cry of the
marauding Indians and shots rang out through
the evening air.
“Come on, Bob,” exclaimed Joseph, as he
swiftly started forward.
He had taken only a few steps, however,
when he felt himself gripped strongly by his
arm and held back.
“No be a fool,” muttered Deerfoot. “Black
Hawk have fifty braves. You be killed unless
stay here.”
“But my family, my mother and sisters,”
14pleaded Joseph. “They will be killed unless I
go to help them.”
“They be killed anyway,” said Deerfoot
stoically. “No use you be killed, too.”
With one hand he held Joseph in a grip of
iron, while with the other he maintained a firm
hold on Robert. Both boys struggled to free
themselves but to no avail. Their Indian ally
held them fast, while all the time in a low voice
he talked to his young friends.
“Black Hawk come with big band,” he explained.
“Me run ten mile to warn Halls.
Black Hawk say he kill your father. He say
your father bad to Indian. No use you be
killed, too. Soon they look for you. You better
run. Deerfoot take you away safe.”
“No! No!” protested Joseph and Robert in
one breath.
“Let go of me, Deerfoot!” exclaimed Joseph.
“Do you think I can leave, while my family are
being murdered? Let me go, I say!”
“Deerfoot no let go,” replied the Indian
calmly.
The air now was resounding with the cries
of the bloodthirsty redmen. If the wild shouts
provided a just basis by which to estimate the
15numbers in the attacking party then it must be
as large as Deerfoot had declared it to be, the
boys concluded. In their hearts both boys were
already convinced that whatever they might do
would be of no avail. At the same time it is
not easy to watch an attack upon one’s family,
and both boys would rather have lost their own
lives than to sit quietly by without making an
effort to aid.
Every time the war whoop sounded a shudder
ran through them and they begged Deerfoot
for a chance to try to protect or avenge
their father, mother and sisters. Both boys
knew well that when an Indian makes war he
spares no one from the head of the family down
to the baby in the cradle. They already were
convinced that soon they would be the only survivors
in what had but recently been a family
of six.
Suddenly Robert wrenched himself free from
Deerfoot’s hold and sprang to his feet. Night
was rapidly coming on and objects at a distance
were hard to distinguish. Through the gathering
dusk he could see his home in the distance.
It had been set on fire and around and around
it the red marauders were dancing, sending
16forth their fiendish shouts of victory. Undoubtedly
everyone in the house was now dead
and soon only the charred remains of what had
once been their home would remain.
An ungovernable feeling of rage surged up
in Robert’s breast and he vowed vengeance. He
raised his rifle to his shoulder and took careful
aim. Never in his life had he been more self-controlled
in his actions than he was at that
moment. The roof of the cabin suddenly burst
into flame and lighted up the awful scene being
enacted nearby. As he pulled the trigger one
of the Indians suddenly leaped high into the air
and fell headlong upon his face and lay still.
Robert’s aim had been true.
As if by magic the war dance of Black Hawk’s
band abruptly ceased. Comrades rushed to
the side of the fallen brave and tried to lift him
to his feet. Their efforts, however, were without
avail; the warrior was dead. As soon as
the others became aware of the fall of their
comrade they immediately turned to see from
which direction the fatal shot had come.
As often happens at sundown there was no
breeze stirring. Rising among the trees over
the spot where Robert and his two companions
17were standing, appeared the smoke from the
young frontiersman’s gun. The sharp-eyed
Sac Indians immediately spied this and with a
shout of rage a score or more of them started
at full speed in the direction of the tell-tale
smoke.
When Robert had fired his rifle, Deerfoot
realized that their position was now disclosed
and he instantly released his hold on Joseph.
There was no advantage to be gained by any
further attempt to hide. Joseph gained his
feet just as the hostile Indians spied the smoke
from his brother’s gun, and hastily taking aim
he fired at the approaching warriors. The fact
that one of them stopped suddenly and clutched
his shoulder proved that Joseph as well as Robert
was skillful in the use of a rifle.
“Fools!” exclaimed Deerfoot in the ears of
the two boys.
“But, Deerfoot—” began Robert, at the same
time hastening to reload his gun.
“Come!” exclaimed Deerfoot, breaking in
upon him. “Come, if you no wish to die.”
Without a word he turned and sped into the
forest, the two boys closely following him. Less
than a quarter of a mile behind them they could
18hear the war cry of the enraged redmen, hot
upon their trail. This was no time to think of
family or anything else except self preservation.
Both boys realized that this was to be a
race with a prize of life or death at the finish,
and this knowledge provided them with additional
strength.
With Deerfoot in the lead, they fled silently
and swiftly through the fast gathering darkness
of the forest. If they could outstrip their pursuers
and keep out of their way until darkness
fell, then their chances of escape would be redoubled.
They were fully aware of this fact
and they knew also that the foes at their heels
knew it, too. Deerfoot set a heart-breaking
pace and if the two brothers had not been in
excellent condition they never could have hoped
to maintain the speed with which they were
running.
Neither boy had any idea of the direction in
which they were fleeing. They followed their
leader blindly, trusting implicitly in him to save
them. Their entire attention was centered in
Deerfoot and they paid no attention to any task
other than that of doing their utmost to keep
pace with their leader.
19Behind them resounded the shouts of their
pursuers and the fugitives seemed to acquire
renewed speed every time they heard the blood-curdling
cries.
At length, however, they began to weaken.
No one was able to maintain such a pace very
much farther. At least that is what both Robert
and Joseph were thinking. They still had
their rifles, and they were determined to hold
them at any cost. The guns were heavy, however,
and undoubtedly prevented the boys from
maintaining their speed.
The darkness increased and Deerfoot began
steadily to draw away from his two young
friends. Born and reared in the woods, and
lightly dressed, he proved more than a match
for the fast tiring brothers. They struggled
desperately to keep up but they both realized
that before long they would be compelled to
stop. And ever nearer sounded the war whoop
of the Sacs.
“I can’t go much farther, Deerfoot,” panted
Joseph.
“Nor I,” gasped Robert.
At the word the flying Indian slackened his
pace and waited for the boys to catch up.
20“Only little more,” he exclaimed, “no stop
now. All die if stop now.”
“But where are you taking us?” exclaimed
Joseph.
“Follow Deerfoot, he show you,” and once
again the fleet-footed Indian sped down the
darkening aisles of the forest. Night was now
so near at hand that it was with difficulty that
the two boys kept their guide in sight. They
made one last effort, however, and exerting all
the strength and will power they possessed they
managed to follow where Deerfoot led.
Suddenly the Indian stopped.
“Black Hawk no see trail now,” he exclaimed.
“We hide here.”
He darted behind a huge tree as he spoke, the
boys instantly following his example.
“Where are we going to hide?” demanded
Joseph.
“Follow Deerfoot,” and as he spoke the Indian
began to climb the nearest tree. Seemingly
he went directly up the side of the tree
and there were no branches to which he might
cling for a considerable distance above the
ground.
“Steps in tree,” announced Deerfoot, stopping
21when he had gone a few feet. “You find
’um easy. Follow Deerfoot.”
Standing where Deerfoot had stood Joseph
ran his hands over the hark of the huge oak
tree. Sure enough, steps large enough and
deep enough to render climbing comparatively
safe had been cut into the side of the tree.
They were just about as far apart as the rungs
of a ladder and having once started on the
strange stairway it was very easy to continue.
Joseph and Robert speedily discovered this
condition and soon were following Deerfoot as
he directed them and were moving nearly as
rapidly as the Indian himself.
In a very brief time all three had reached the
first huge branches of the oak. Here a small
platform had been built, consisting of only two
or three planks, but they were so arranged that
when the three fugitives lay down there was
sufficient room for them all. These planks had
been cunningly concealed by branches and moss,
though naturally the boys did not know this in
the darkness. It was about all they could do to
make out the indistinct outlines of the nearby
trees.
The description of their activities required
22more time than Deerfoot and his two companions
consumed in their efforts to gain this place
of refuge. In a very short time they were lying
prone on the platform and peering eagerly
down into the depths of the forest. They had
moved cautiously and silently and well it was
that they had made no noise. Scarcely were
they settled in the place before shadowy forms
began to flit past them in the dim light below.
No war whoops now were heard. The redmen
were on the trail to avenge their dead comrade
and the one who had been wounded, and
now that night had fallen they had no desire to
disclose their position. Joseph and Robert
could not repress an involuntary shudder as
they watched their pursuers speed past them.
At the same time they had a feeling of satisfaction
as they thought that they had thus far outwitted
their foes and for the present at least
were comparatively safe.—
Twenty-seven warriors passed beneath the
platform in the old oak tree, according to Joseph’s
count. Certainly there were enough of
them to overcome any resistance the three fugitives
could furnish. Night came on, but not for
a moment was the vigilance of any one on the
23platform relaxed. Hour after hour dragged
by and soon the dawn would appear. Robert
understood as well as Joseph and Deerfoot, that
when morning came their position would no
longer be safe. With the coming of the morning
light the hostile Indians would surely discover
their trail and follow it to the base of the
large oak tree. If they were to escape, now
was the time to do so.
“Come,” said Deerfoot in a low voice.
He cautiously arose and started to make his
way down the strange stairway. Joseph and
Robert followed closely behind. Slowly and as
quietly as possible they descended the tree and
soon their feet were on solid ground once more.
There they stood for a moment, and then, with
Deerfoot in the lead, they started to retrace
their course of the night before.
They had covered a hundred yards or more
when suddenly from a bush almost directly in
front of them came the sharp bark of a rifle.
A bullet whistled over their heads.
CHAPTER III A DEVASTATED HOME
24
All three immediately dropped on their
hands and knees. Rifles in hand they scurried
for the nearest shelter and awaited developments.
A puff of smoke floated upward from
the bush whence the shot had come, as the three
fugitives stretched themselves prone behind the
trunk of a large fallen tree. After many moments
of waiting Deerfoot cautiously raised his
head.
He dropped back again quickly, however, as
a rifle ball splintered the bark scarcely ten
inches from him. Evidently their enemy was
keeping a sharp lookout. Apparently there was
only one Indian in the bush, but neither of the
two young pioneers nor their red ally cared to
take any chances with him. For some moments
there was absolute silence in that part of the
25forest where this little drama was being
enacted.
Suddenly Deerfoot stirred. He evidently had
some scheme he wished to put into execution.
“Give Deerfoot hat,” he whispered to Joseph,
who lay next to him.
Without hesitation Joseph did as he was told.
Deerfoot pulled a strip of bark from the fallen
tree and placed the hat upon one end of it, while
he held to the other. Cautiously and slowly he
raised the hat until it showed above their
shelter. Immediately it was fired upon.
Deerfoot turned to his young friends and
smiled grimly.
“I do that again,” he whispered. “When he
fire, white boys jump to feet and fire too. We
take him by surprise.”
“A fine idea,” exclaimed Joseph eagerly.
“Are you all ready, Bob?”
“All ready,” replied Robert quietly. “Just
give me the signal.”
The two boys crouched, guns in hand, ready
to spring to their feet instantly. Deerfoot also
prepared to do his part. He lay on his back
and slowly raised the hat; it was a nervous moment
for the three people behind the fallen
26tree trunk. They did not know whether or not
their foe would be deceived by their strategy
and they could not be sure that only one hostile
redman lurked in the nearby bush. Day had
now come, however, and it was high time for
them to move on. In a short time that portion
of Black Hawk’s band which had pursued them
the night before might once more appear and
then their escape would be hopeless.
So gradually did Deerfoot raise the hat that
it scarcely seemed to move. Little by little,
however, it was elevated on the stick until it
showed above the fallen log. Joseph and Robert
waited with every muscle tense, ready to
spring to their feet the instant their enemy
should fire. If Deerfoot’s strategy succeeded
and if there was only one Indian who barred
their way the three fugitives would soon be able
to resume their journey.
After what seemed to the two young pioneers
to be a very long time the hat appeared above
the log. Now was the important moment, and
of the three persons hiding behind the fallen
tree, two of them at least were very nervous.
The success or failure of their scheme would
now be determined in a very short time.
27When at least two inches of the hat was exposed
to view, Deerfoot waited. Nothing happened,
however. He raised the hat a bit higher.
Still there was no result. Perhaps their foe
suspected a plot and was determined not to be
caught. That such could be the case seemed
most improbable, however. Deerfoot raised the
hat still a little higher and moved it slightly to
one side, as if its owner was trying to conceal
himself behind something.
Bang! A shot suddenly struck the hat
squarely in the center and splintered the stick,
tearing it from Deerfoot’s hand.
“Now, Bob,” exclaimed Joseph, springing to
his feet.
Both boys immediately jumped up and taking
quick aim fired into the bush whence the
bullets had come. Then they once more dodged
behind the sheltering log. A shrill cry at that
moment startled them, however, and looking up
they saw Deerfoot, knife in hand, charging the
spot where their enemy was located. He uttered
the war whoop of the Pottowattomies
and it was this that the boys had heard.
“We mustn’t let him go alone,” cried Robert,
and as he spoke the two young woodsmen dashed
28forward to lend what assistance they could to
their ally.
There was nothing for them to do, however,
when they reached the bush. Stretched upon
the ground lay the Indian who had so nearly
succeeded in shooting and perhaps killing one
of the three. Hideous he looked in his gaudy
war paint, smeared as he was with it from head
to foot. One glance was sufficient to convince
the two brothers that their foe was dead, and it
was hard for them to repress a shudder, as they
looked at the cruel face on the ground before
them, and realized what might have been their
fate had they fallen into the hands of such an
enemy.
“Deerfoot, you mustn’t do that!” exclaimed
Joseph suddenly.
Knife in hand Deerfoot was busily engaged
in scalping his fallen foe. As Joseph spoke,
their Indian ally muttered something, but did
not stop the work in which he was engaged.
“Deerfoot—” began Joseph again, when Robert
interrupted him.
“Let him alone, Joe,” he cautioned in a low
voice. “It is his custom to do that and he won’t
like it if we stop him.”
29“I guess you’re right,” agreed Joseph. “I
can’t look at him, though,” and he turned his
back on the revolting scene being enacted on
the ground at his feet. The two young pioneers
withdrew a short distance and waited for Deerfoot
to join them.
“That was a lucky shot that one of us made,”
remarked Joseph.
“I should say so,” agreed Robert, who was
busily engaged in reloading his gun. “I wonder
which one of us hit him.”
“I know I didn’t see him when I fired,” said
Joseph. “I just aimed at the bush and trusted
to luck.”
“The same thing I did,” exclaimed Joseph.
“Well, as long as we were successful it
doesn’t make much difference who it was that
hit him, I guess,” said Robert.
At this moment Deerfoot came to the place
where the boys were standing. Joseph could
not help noticing the fresh scalp dangling at
the belt of the Indian and he felt a chill run up
and down his spine at the sight. As Robert
had said, however, Deerfoot had only done what
was customary with his people and as he knew
no better, he was not to be blamed.
30“Come,” said Deerfoot. “Black Hawk soon
find trail. Maybe he hear shots too. We better
go.”
“Where are we going?” demanded Joseph.
“Follow Deerfoot,” replied the Indian calmly.
“I want to go home,” exclaimed Joseph.
“So do I,” echoed Robert. “I want to know
what has happened to our family.”
“No go home,” protested Deerfoot. “All
family dead. You know that.”
“That may be true,” said Joseph, “but I want
to see with my own eyes. Do you think I could
just go away now and never know for sure
that all my family were dead? Even if they
have been killed, and I’m afraid that’s what
has happened, I want to go back. I want to
give them a decent burial at least.”
“That’s just the way I feel,” exclaimed
Robert.
“You may be killed, too,” protested Deerfoot.
“I’ll take that chance,” insisted Joseph.
“You don’t have to go with us if you don’t want
to, you know. At any rate I think that would
be the last place they would think of looking
for us. They won’t think that we’ll dare go
back there.”
31“That’s right, Joe,” exclaimed his brother.
“Are you going with us, Deerfoot?”
“Deerfoot go where you go,” said the Indian
shortly.
Without another word they set out. Deerfoot
led the way as usual, with the two brothers
following close behind him. Extreme caution
was used, as they did not know when the hostile
band of Indians might suddenly loom up
in their path. They had covered not more than
a mile when Deerfoot suddenly held up his hand
and the boys instantly came to a full stop.
“There house,” said Deerfoot, pointing ahead
of him as he spoke.
Sure enough. Through the trees the young
brothers could see a clearing which they immediately
recognized as theirs. They saw no
house, however. Steadily they crept nearer to
the edge of the forest and a heart-rending scene
lay spread before their eyes. What had once
been a sturdy little cabin was now a mass of
blackened embers from which a thin spiral of
smoke was still curling.
“Do you suppose it’s safe to go closer?” asked
Robert in a sorrow-stricken voice. “Out into
the clearing, I mean.”
32“I don’t know whether it is or not,” replied
Joseph. “But I do know that I am going anyway.”
The two brothers stepped out from the shelter
of the trees and approached their ruined home.
They held their guns ready for immediate use,
however, and they were alert to any danger
which might arise. Deerfoot walked at their
side.
“Me keep guard,” he said. “No stay long
though, please.”
“No, not long, Deerfoot,” promised Joseph.
The Indian took up his post in the tiny orchard
that the Hall family had nursed so carefully,
while the two boys went forward to examine
the ruins.
The devastation had been complete. The
smouldering pile of charred ruins alone bore
witness to the fact that a house had once stood
on the site. The two young brothers were too
completely overcome to speak for several moments.
All they could do was to stand and
look sorrowfully at the ruins of what had once
been their home.
“We can’t do much here, I guess,” said Joseph
at length.
33“No,” replied Robert, choking back a sob.
“It looks as though Black Hawk and his band
have made a good job of it.”
“In those ruins,” went on Joseph bitterly,
“undoubtedly lie the bodies of our father and
mother and our two sisters. Just think of it;
at this time yesterday they were alive and
happy. Now they are all dead, burned up by
the flames of their own home and no doubt their
scalps have been taken, just as Deerfoot took
the scalp of that Indian in the woods this
morning.”
“Well,” exclaimed Robert, “one thing is sure
and that is that I shall never rest until I have
avenged their deaths. From now on I swear
enmity to Black Hawk and all his tribe. I’ll
have revenge or die in the attempt. That much
I’m certain of.”
“Look there!” said Joseph. “They didn’t
even spare Shep.”
A few feet away lay the body of a collie dog,
a bullet through his brain. Shep, the playmate
and faithful friend of the Hall family, one that
had shared their fortunes uncomplainingly,
whether they were good or bad, had also fallen
a victim to the blood lust of the hostile redmen.
34“We’ll avenge Shep too,” exclaimed Robert
earnestly. “Come on, Joe! We can’t do any
good here and we are probably in danger too.
Let’s find Deerfoot and get out of here as fast
as we can.”
“Where are we going to go?”
“I haven’t an idea. I haven’t thought that
far. All I know is I want to get away from
here. The other settlers ought to be warned
too before the same thing happens to them that
has happened to our family.”
“All right,” agreed Joseph. “Let’s find Deerfoot
and go somewhere. I don’t care much
where it is either.”
When he saw the two brothers approaching
to meet him Deerfoot hastened toward
them.
“Must hurry,” he exclaimed. “I think Black
Hawk come soon.”
Not even asking where he intended to go,
Joseph and Robert followed Deerfoot and in a
half-dazed condition walked beside him. To be
made orphans as suddenly and as unexpectedly
as these two boys had been, would be a shock
to anyone and both young frontiersmen felt
their loss keenly.
35They made their way across the clearing and
were just about to enter the woods when from
behind them came the sharp bark of a rifle. A
bullet sang above their heads and buried itself
in a nearby tree.
CHAPTER IV A HIDDEN RETREAT
36
Neither Joseph nor Robert nor Deerfoot
stopped to see who it was that had fired
at them. Without a word they plunged quickly
in among the trees and once again started on a
race for their lives. From behind them came
the faint sounds of the war whoops, which only
served to increase the speed of the three
fugitives.
They had baffled and eluded their pursuers
the night previous, but could they do it again?
That was the thought uppermost in the minds
of the three hunted men who were once more
closely pressed by their enemies. Certainly
they intended to do their utmost.
No sounds reached them from behind now,
but this did not mean that their foes had given
up the chase. The two brothers and their Indian
37friend realized that this time it was to be a
race to a finish. Black Hawk and his band had
been foiled once and consequently it would be
all the harder to escape them the second time.
The three fugitives knew that their enemies
would keep up the pursuit until the race was
definitely settled.
On and on Deerfoot led the way until they
emerged from the woods onto the open prairie.
There was an open space, at least a mile wide
here, bordered on both sides by the forest and
directly out upon this Deerfoot sped.
“They’ll see us here surely, Deerfoot,” panted
Joseph. “We’ll be in plain sight and they can
easily shoot us down.”
“Follow Deerfoot,” came the short, sharp reply,
and neither Joseph nor his brother offered
any more objections.
Deerfoot did not go far from the shelter of
the trees, however. He ran perhaps twenty-five
or thirty yards from the border of the forest
and then turned abruptly to his left. The
ground was hard here and the trail as a consequence
difficult to follow. Deerfoot kept on in
this new course perhaps fifty yards more and
then made another sharp turn to his left. This
38brought them back toward the woods once
more.
Both boys now saw Deerfoot’s plan. He was
doubling on his tracks. The ground on the
prairie was hard and along the surface of the
earth ran a vein of solid rock. It would be
almost impossible to follow a trail there, at
least with any degree of speed, and Deerfoot
had counted upon that as an aid. He hoped to
gain a few precious moments by his strategy.
Safe within the shelter of the forest, once
more the wily Pottowattomie called a halt. The
three fugitives crouched behind the shelter of
a bush and gazed eagerly out across the prairie.
They were all out of wind and a chance to regain
their lost breath was heartily welcomed.
“Think we’ve thrown them off the trail?”
whispered Joseph.
“No for long,” replied Deerfoot quietly.
As he spoke an Indian bounded out of the
woods, closely followed by several more. They
all stopped and looked about them in a puzzled
manner, and as more of their companions at
that time joined them, a hasty consultation was
held. They gesticulated and pointed in all directions,
evidently at a loss what to do next.
39One of them pointed to the woods beyond the
prairie, but evidently the others did not think
their quarry could have gained enough ground
to have reached that shelter.
“Come,” said Deerfoot, slinking away. “They
find our trail soon.”
“No. Let’s not waste any time,” agreed Robert,
and once more the flight was resumed.
Soon they came to a brook. Into this Deerfoot
plunged without any hesitation and began making
his way down stream as fast as he was able.
The two brothers followed closely behind, and,
imitating their guide, they jumped from rock
to rock when such a course was possible, and
at other times they waded in the shallow waters
of the stream. This was another trick to throw
their pursuers off the trail. Evidently Deerfoot
was using all his skill and cunning.
Down the stream they went for at least a
third of a mile before Deerfoot decided to try
the solid earth again. At a small rocky beach
they left the brook and struck out through the
woods once more. A short time later he once
more entered the brook and went ashore on
the opposite side. He was doubling on their
tracks continually, and certainly no one but a
40skilled Indian could follow the course he was
leading.
After a further flight they came to Fox River.
Along its shores were marshes overhung with
willows. From underneath one of these Deerfoot
drew a canoe, skillfully hidden in the
rushes, and a few moments later the three fugitives
were seated in this frail craft, paddling
swiftly down the stream.
“We fool them, I think,” said Deerfoot
grimly. “We fool Black Hawk, all right. He
no catch us now.”
“I hope you’re right,” exclaimed Joseph fervently.
“I know I should hate to have him
catch us.”
“I’ve gotten so I don’t much care what happens,”
said Robert, speaking with difficulty.
“Why, what’s the matter?” inquired his
brother.
“I’m so tired and so hungry, I feel as if it
didn’t make much difference what becomes of
us. Our family is all gone and what’s the use?”
“Don’t talk like that,” protested Joseph.
“Weren’t you the one who was swearing vengeance
only a couple of hours ago?”
“I know it,” admitted Robert mournfully.
41“Just think, though, we didn’t have any sleep
last night and we have had no food since yesterday
sometime. I can’t keep this up much
longer.”
“Deerfoot know where food is,” exclaimed the
Indian. “We be there soon. Also can sleep
too.”
He had but little sympathy with Robert’s
complaints. It was a part of his training, and
was bred in the blood of every Indian youth,
to endure what came and not grumble. Whether
he encountered good or bad fortune his attitude
was the same and he always looked with
contempt at what he considered the weakness
of the white people if they complained of their
sufferings or misfortunes. He was intensely
fond of both Joseph and Robert, however, and
he did not hold them personally responsible for
what he regarded as a grave fault. In his heart
he blamed their race.
“Thank goodness,” ejaculated Robert in response
to Deerfoot’s statement. “Food and
sleep are the two things I want most of all
right now.”
“I need them too,” said Joseph. “I think,
however, that our hardships have just begun.
42That is, if we meant what we said this morning
about avenging our family. I know I meant
it anyway.”
“So did I,” exclaimed Robert. “I didn’t mean
to be a baby just now and it won’t happen again.
Here, Deerfoot, let me paddle.”
“No. Deerfoot paddle,” replied the Indian
quietly.
His manner immediately changed toward
Robert, however, as he saw a revival of spirit
in the boy. It was never his custom openly to
rebuke either of his young friends. He set an
example and took it for granted that the
brothers would follow it. He was immensely
proud of his young pupils, for it was in this
light that he regarded them, and stoical as he
was he could not always hide his feelings.
Down the narrow stream they went about
two miles. Here the channel became lost in a
huge swamp, a place that had always been a
mystery and an attraction to the two brothers.
They had never explored the swamp to any
extent, however, for they invariably lost their
bearings when they entered it and experienced
difficulty in finding their way out. The channel
of Fox River was easily discerned and not hard
43to follow, but Deerfoot soon left the channel
and bore off to his left.
The reeds and rushes grew high in the swamp.
Great overhanging trees shut out the sun and
made the place dark and gloomy. Here and
there muskrat houses appeared and more than
once these ratlike denizens of the marshes
could be seen hastening to cover at the approach
of the canoe. Everything was so still that it
had a pronounced effect on the three men in
the canoe, as they wound their way in and out
along the narrow waterways.
Deerfoot seemed perfectly sure of his course
and did not once hesitate as he skillfully maneuvered
the frail craft through the swamp.
In absolute silence they progressed, the hoarse
croak of a heron disturbed by their approach
being the only sound to break the stillness.
The narrow channel suddenly turned sharply
to the right and a small lagoon appeared before
the eyes of the three fugitives. In the center
of the little lake was an island about a hundred
feet square and heavily wooded.
“There place,” said Deerfoot calmly.
“Can we land there?” questioned Robert
doubtfully. “It looks pretty swampy to me.”
44“No swamp in middle,” replied the Indian.
A few powerful strokes of the paddle brought
them to the shore of the tiny island. Beneath
the low hanging branches of a great willow tree
they glided and a moment later stepped ashore.
Deerfoot carefully drew the canoe out of the
water and concealed it behind the screen of a
heavy growth of bushes.
The ground was wet and marshy near the
shore, but a few yards farther inland it rose
abruptly, affording a firm, dry footing. Robert
and Joseph followed Deerfoot as he led the
way to the very center of the island. Here
was a log hut, only a few feet high and carefully
hidden by vines which had grown until
they entirely covered the building. A narrow
window afforded fresh air and a scanty supply
of light.
The Indian stooped and unfastened the low
door. Then on his hands and knees he crawled
inside, closely followed by the two young pioneers.
To say they were surprised to find this
retreat would be stating the case mildly.
Never a word had Deerfoot ever spoken of this
island or the hut upon it and neither of the
boys had ever suspected that such a place was
45located within only a few miles of their own
home.
“Just think how many times we have passed
this place and yet we’ve never known a thing
about it,” remarked Joseph.
“Well, I should say so,” exclaimed Robert.
They were seated on the hard earthen floor of
the tiny house, interestedly examining every
detail of their shelter and hiding place. Robert’s
fatigue and hunger had entirely given way
to his interest in his new surroundings. When
Deerfoot produced dried venison and corn from
a stone closet in one corner, however, these two
feelings soon returned.
“Food,” said the Indian shortly, offering the
provender to the two young brothers. “Then
sleep.”
No second invitation was needed. The two
boys grasped the food like starving men and
soon ate all that had been given them. Deerfoot
offered them no more and they both knew
better than to ask for it. If the Indian had
wished them to have more he would have given
it to them. A moment later, the food gone,
they stretched themselves at full length on the
ground, and immediately fell fast asleep.
CHAPTER V A NEEDED REST
46
How long he slept neither boy knew. Robert
was the first to awaken and for some
moments he could not remember where he was.
The last two days had been so crowded with
events that it had all seemed a confused and
horrible dream to the young frontiersman. He
rubbed his eyes and sat up, bewildered by his
strange surroundings.
For some time he sat still, trying to recall
where he was and what had brought him to
this place. He looked about him and the sight
of his brother Joseph stretched upon the ground
by his side suddenly brought a remembrance
of his recent experiences to his mind. He
stretched himself and yawned audibly. At
the sound Joseph stirred and opened his
eyes.
47“Hello, Bob,” he said drowsily. “Where
are we?”
“That’s just what I was trying to think a
moment ago,” replied Robert. “I know now
though. We’re on Deerfoot’s island in the
middle of the swamp.”
“It must be afternoon then,” said Joseph.
“We arrived here sometime in the forenoon, I
think.”
“Yes, I know we did. I don’t think it’s afternoon
though.”
“Why not?”
“Because I feel very much rested. I think
it must be tomorrow morning, if you understand
what I mean by that remark.”
“You mean we’ve slept nearly all day, and
all night, too, I suppose.”
“Yes,” said Robert. “That’s exactly what I
mean.”
“Impossible.”
48“Not at all. That would only bring us up to
our average anyway.”
Joseph made his way to the window and
looked out. “Perhaps you’re right,” he agreed.
“It does look sort of like early morning outside.”
“Don’t you think we ought to find Deerfoot?”
“We might look for him anyway. Let’s go
out.”
They crawled out through the low door and
after scanning the landscape for possible signs
of an enemy both stood up. Deerfoot was nowhere
to be seen.
“Let’s look for the canoe,” suggested Robert.
“If that is gone, Deerfoot is with it somewhere.”
They walked quickly to the place where the
canoe had been hidden, but it was not to be
found.
“Where do you suppose he has gone?” demanded
Joseph.
“I’ve no idea. Scouting, I guess.”
“I hope nothing happens to him,” exclaimed
Joseph. “Suppose he should be killed. We’d
be left in a nice fix; on an island in the middle
of a swamp we know nothing about, and with
no boat to take us off.”
49“Don’t worry about anything happening to
Deerfoot,” said Robert confidently. “He’ll be
back here safe and sound before long.”
“I hope you’re right. Let’s go back to the
hut and wait there.”
A few moments later the boys seated themselves
in front of the little log cabin. They
sat where the sun would shine directly upon
them, for the early morning air was cold. They
took especial care, however, to select a place
where they would not be exposed to the view
of any chance passerby. They knew enough
about Indians to realize that one can never be
too careful when attempting to remain hidden
from them. An Indian will see the smoke of a
camp fire for miles distant; the slightest noise
will alarm him, and a trail is an open book for
him to read.
“Do you suppose Black Hawk and his band
could trace us here?”
“I doubt it,” said Joseph in response to his
brother’s query. “They might have followed
our trail up to the spot where we took the
canoe. I don’t see how any human being could
track us to this island though. If we are discovered
it will only be by luck.”
50Though hidden from the sight of passersby,
the two boys were in a position where they
could see all that occurred on the lagoon. As
his brother finished speaking Robert half rose
to his feet.
“Look!” he exclaimed.
“It’s Deerfoot,” said Joseph, gazing in the
direction Robert indicated.
Across the lagoon sped the canoe, propelled
by the expert paddle of the Pottowattomie. A
moment later Deerfoot landed, drew the canoe
ashore and approached the cabin door where
the boys were seated. In one hand he held a
string of perch and in the other he carried a
duck.
What the two brothers both noticed at once,
however, was the fact that from his belt now
dangled two scalps where the day previous there
had been but one. Neither boy dared ask an
explanation, however, for they knew that if
Deerfoot cared to tell of his exploit he would
do so voluntarily. Questions would have no
effect upon him other than to make him angry,
for curiosity as to other people’s affairs was
always regarded by an Indian as very bad
breeding.
51“Boys sleep long,” said Deerfoot, when he
had come to the place where they were seated.
“Yes, Deerfoot,” agreed Joseph. “We were
very tired.”
“Me catch fish and duck,” said the Indian.
“So we see,” laughed Joseph. “How did you
do it?”
“Fish with hook. Duck with snare. How
you s’pose?”
“I didn’t know,” replied Joseph meekly. He
considered Deerfoot’s reply a rebuke, for evidently
the Indian took it for granted that he
should know how the game had been captured.
The Pottowattomie did not care for useless
questions.
“Did you see anything of Black Hawk?”
asked Robert.
“No see him,” replied Deerfoot, who at once
began the work of cleaning the fish he had
caught. Robert asked no more questions and
as Deerfoot did not offer to tell how he had
captured the second scalp, the matter was evidently
closed, at least for the present. Both
boys were burning with curiosity, but to no
purpose. Some day perhaps, if Deerfoot felt
so inclined, he would tell them all about his
52exploit, but this he apparently did not consider
the proper time to do so.
“How long do you expect to stay here, Deerfoot?”
inquired Joseph after several moments
of silence. The Indian was cleaning the last
fish and he made no reply until he had finished.
The task did not consume much time, however,
for the Pottowattomie was an expert in this
art. He laid the fish upon a flat stone with
the others, wiped his knife clean and then answered
Joseph’s question.
“We leave tonight,” he said.
“Where are we going?” demanded Joseph
and Robert in one breath.
“Dixon’s Ferry.”
“Dixon’s Ferry!” exclaimed Joseph. “Why,
that’s a long distance from here.”
“I know,” agreed Deerfoot. “We go there.
Soldiers there, too.”
“Is that so?” cried Joseph in surprise. “You
mean soldiers sent against Black Hawk?”
“Yes,” said the Indian. “Governor Reynolds
send soldiers.”
“How do you know all this?” inquired Robert
doubtfully.
“Me know,” replied Deerfoot shortly. He
53did not like to have his statements questioned,
and immediately lapsed into silence. He ignored
any further remarks on the subject made
by either of the brothers, and busied himself
in his preparations for the meal.
He quickly brought dried birch logs from
inside the cabin and a moment later had a
cheerful fire blazing. The wood he used did
not smoke, so that any danger on that score
was removed. As soon as the fire was well
under way he seized the captured duck, holding
it by its head with one hand and by its feet
with the other. A moment later all of its
feathers were singed off by the fire and he
soon had the wild fowl skillfully prepared for
cooking.
Before long a splendid bed of coals had collected
and in these Deerfoot placed the fish.
The duck he spitted on a sharp stick and soon
the savory smell of cooking food reminded the
young pioneers how hungry they were. When
the perch were done they were rolled in corn
meal and quickly disappeared down the throats
of the three fugitives. When the duck was
eaten and the fire extinguished they settled back
against the side of the cabin, feeling very much
54at peace with the world, in spite of their precarious
position.
“Not dark for long while,” said Deerfoot.
“Boys better sleep.”
“What?” exclaimed Joseph. “You don’t
think we can sleep all the time, do you? I feel
as if I never wanted to sleep again.”
“You feel different tomorrow maybe.”
“That may be so, but I can’t sleep now, that’s
sure. How do you feel, Bob?”
“Entirely slept out,” replied Robert, his remark
followed by a yawn, however.
All three lapsed into silence while they
scanned the surrounding landscape and wished
for the coming of night. The quiet of the
swamp was undisturbed save for the occasional
call of a wild fowl or a splash caused by the
jump of a fish. The wind blowing gently
through the trees and rushes furnished a
drowsy hum as a background to the other
noises. As far as one could judge from appearances
in the swamp, all the world was at
peace. Little would anyone suspect that the
three men on the tiny island had been forced
to seek that refuge because of hostile Indians.
55“Where is Black Hawk’s village?” asked Joseph
suddenly.
“Where Rock River meet Mississippi,” replied
Deerfoot. “That was his village.”
“Why do you say was?”
“White people take it away from him,” said
Deerfoot.
“Is that why he’s fighting?” inquired Joseph.
“If they stole his village, then I don’t blame
him.”
“Don’t forget this though,” exclaimed Robert
hotly. “The Whites may have cheated the
Indians lots of times, but just the same the
Sacs signed a treaty to move across the Mississippi,
and they have refused to go. At any
rate nothing can excuse their killing our family.
We did nothing to Black Hawk or any
of his people and I intend to get even if I can.
How can the country ever expect to be settled
if the people are liable to be murdered at any
moment?”
“That’s true,” agreed Joseph. “It’s hard to
blame Black Hawk from his point of view
though. He probably thinks he’s entitled to all
this land and that every white settler is a thief
who is trying to steal from him.”
56“Black Hawk isn’t the head of his tribe anyway,”
continued Robert. “Keokuk is the big
chief, isn’t he, Deerfoot?”
“That right,” grunted the Indian. “Black
Hawk the war chief. He fighter.”
“All Pottowattomies are fighters, aren’t
they?” said Robert, at the same time covertly
nudging Joseph as he spoke. Deerfoot merely
grunted but his eyes shone at this remark of
his young white friend, and unconsciously he
felt for the two scalps at his belt. They were
not there, however, but stretched on frames,
were drying in the sun before the cabin. They
presented a gruesome sight but one from which
the brothers found difficulty in keeping their
gaze.
Both boys smiled at the pride exhibited by
Deerfoot in response to Robert’s insinuation as
to the prowess of the Pottowattomies. For
some time they lazily discussed Black Hawk
and his deeds.
Finally Deerfoot stretched himself at full
length on the ground and straightway fell
asleep. In spite of their long rest the two
brothers soon followed his example; they had
been more tired than they realized and were
57soon in the land of dreams. They were awakened
by Deerfoot shaking them gently by the
shoulder. When they opened their eyes it was
dusk.
“Come,” urged Deerfoot. “Time to go.”
CHAPTER VI A NEW DANGER
58
Deerfoot offered the two boys dried
venison and some cakes made of corn
meal. The three fugitives partook heartily of
this simple repast and then prepared to continue
their flight. Silently and with extreme
caution they made their way to the place where
the canoe lay hidden and a few moments later
all three embarked. The night was dark, but
this fact did not seem to trouble Deerfoot. He
wielded the paddle and with strong, sure
strokes propelled the light canoe swiftly over
the waters of the lagoon.
In a short time they were once more among
the rushes and through the narrow waterways
Deerfoot paddled the frail craft as confidently
as a man might walk down the street of some
familiar town. Joseph and Robert crouched
59low in the canoe, made no sound, but constantly
marveled at the skill of their Indian friend,
who so easily found his way in the marshes.
Presently they emerged from the swamp into
the main channel of the river. As close to the
shore as possible Deerfoot steered his course
and now did scarcely more than guide the
canoe; he allowed the current to carry them
along. Although it was somewhat sluggish
here, the Indian seemed to be content with the
speed they were making. So quietly did the
canoe drift down the stream and so dark was
the night that an observer from the shore
might easily have mistaken the ghostlike object
for a floating log.
The motion of the canoe was so soothing and
all about them everything seemed so quiet and
peaceful that the two brothers almost forgot
the danger they were in, and had nearly fallen
asleep again when the grating of the bow on
a sandy beach quickly aroused them.
“Out here,” whispered Deerfoot.
A moment later the canoe had been hauled
ashore and hidden, and without further delay
Joseph and Robert followed their Indian guide
as he struck out through the woods.
60On the river the night had seemed dark, but
in the woods it was pitchy black. The great
overhanging trees shut out whatever feeble
light the stars might give, so that the forest
was inky dark. As a consequence progress was
very slow. Deerfoot did not even for a moment
relax his caution; the three fugitives
proceeded one behind the other and so close
that they could almost touch one another.
Speed was sacrificed to quietness and as a consequence
it required the better part of an hour
to traverse this strip of woods, though it was
only a half-mile wide.
At last they emerged from the shelter of the
forest onto the prairie. Far ahead of them it
stretched like the waters of a huge lake, apparently
boundless in its extent. Bushes
formed the only cover on this vast expanse of
level country and both Joseph and Robert
could not help wondering what they should do
if their enemies should discover them while
they were crossing this plain. There was no
choice, however, if they wished to reach Dixon’s
Ferry, and the chance must be taken.
Soon their progress was more rapid. Swiftly
they walked and as the moon broke from behind
61a cloud its rays made the three figures
look like ghosts, as, bending low, they hurried
forward on their perilous journey. Mile after
mile they covered and scarcely a word had been
spoken since they left Deerfoot’s hut on the
island in the swamp. Finally, however, the
Indian called a halt.
“We rest here,” he exclaimed, pointing to a
clump of bushes nearby as he spoke.
“Good,” said Joseph heartily. “That was a
fast pace, Deerfoot.”
“Huh,” grunted the Indian. “Must hurry.”
“Are we going to travel all day, too?” inquired
Robert. He had sunk to the ground as
soon as their march had ceased, and now,
stripped of his gun, he lay at full length upon
the earth.
“No,” said Deerfoot in response to Robert’s
question. “We stay Scott’s today.”
“I do,” said Joseph, turning to his brother
as he spoke. “Don’t you remember that family
that stopped at our house about five or six
62years ago, Bob? They had come from Virginia
and we heard later that they had settled out
on the prairie here. You must remember
them.”
“I sort of recall something about them,”
agreed Robert. “How far from here is their
house, Deerfoot?”
“Six miles.”
“We’ll reach there early in the morning then,
won’t we?”
“Daylight,” said Deerfoot. “We stay here
half-hour, then go on again.”
“When ought we to reach Dixon’s Ferry?”
asked Joseph.
“Tomorrow, mebbe. Mebbe next day,”
grunted Deerfoot, and rolling over on his back
the Indian immediately fell asleep.
“Look at that,” exclaimed Joseph. “He is
just like a dog and can go to sleep whenever
he feels like it. I wish I could do it.”
“It’s all practice,” said Robert. “Deerfoot
has been trained to it all his life and that’s
why he can do it now.”
“Well, you and I had better try to rest, too,”
said Joseph, as he stretched himself on the
ground beside Deerfoot.
63“Suppose we all go to sleep and no one wakes
up in a half an hour?”
“Don’t worry about that. Deerfoot will wake
up all right.”
The brothers lapsed into silence but they
did not sleep. They had had more rest than
Deerfoot recently and were not in such need
of sleep as was their guide. In addition, the
ground was hard and lumpy, and no matter
which way they adjusted themselves it seemed
as if some particularly hard bump was immediately
underneath them. The ground was
hard and the grass was dry, for but little rain
had fallen recently, and this fact only served
to make their beds more uncomfortable. They
obtained some rest, however, and were ready
to start again when Deerfoot gave the word.
He opened his eyes presently and sat up. A
moment later he sprang to his feet, while the
two brothers quickly followed his example.
“Wind blow now,” grunted Deerfoot.
“It is freshening,” agreed Joseph. “It’s
right in our faces too.”
It was at least two hours before the dawn
when they once more resumed their march.
The wind blowing over the prairie was cool in
64their faces and sweet with the odor of grass
and the earth. Soon they would come to the
Scott’s home where they were confident that
they would be heartily welcomed and furnished
with a sumptuous meal. Perhaps the Scotts
would join them in their flight to Dixon’s
Ferry; at any rate they could be warned of
the presence of warlike Indians in the vicinity.
These and similar thoughts occupied the minds
of the two brothers as they hurried on their way.
They had covered perhaps five of the six
miles when Deerfoot suddenly stopped. He
bent slightly forward as if he was listening to
something, and imitating him Joseph and Robert
both listened intently. No sound came to
them, however, but evidently the case was different
with Deerfoot. For some moments he
remained in a listening attitude, and then
turned to his young friends.
“Are you sure?” demanded Joseph. “Are
you sure you hear war whoops?”
65“Ugh,” grunted Deerfoot.
“This is terrible!” cried Joseph. “It seems
as if we ought to have warned them. What
shall we do?”
“How could we have warned them?” demanded
Robert. “We’d have been killed ourselves
if we had tried to get here any sooner.”
“But what shall we do?”
“I don’t know. Ask Deerfoot.”
The first faint streaks of dawn were now
lighting up the sky. Little by little objects
began to be distinguishable and as Joseph
turned to Deerfoot for an answer to his question,
the Indian pointed to something he saw
in the distance. Both boys instantly gazed in
the direction he indicated.
“What is it?” demanded Joseph in a low
voice.
“Smoke.”
“Sure enough,” cried Robert. “I see it.
They are burning the Scotts’ house just as they
burned ours. They’re probably all dead by
now.”
Deerfoot was evidently uneasy. He shifted
from one foot to the other and glanced about
him as if he was undecided what to do next.
66The three fugitives simply stood and gazed at
the distant column of smoke.
“You can smell the smoke now,” exclaimed
Robert suddenly.
“Yes,” agreed Joseph. “The wind is coming
this way.”
“So fire,” said Deerfoot.
“What do you mean by that?” asked Joseph.
“Fire come this way, too.”
“How will it?”
“Prairie burn,” said Deerfoot quietly.
“Do you think the prairie will catch on fire?”
demanded Joseph in alarm. “Do you think it
is dry enough?”
The two young pioneers gazed anxiously
across the level plain to the place where the
fire was raging. They knew the horrors of a
prairie fire and they had no desire to be caught
in the midst of one.
“Sure prairie dry,” grunted Deerfoot.
“We’d better leave here as fast as we can
then, hadn’t we?” exclaimed Joseph, now fully
alarmed. As he spoke they could see the fire
suddenly spring up all about the former home
of the Scotts. Fanned by the ever freshening
breeze it made its way swiftly along the ground
67and gathering power as it ran, leaped into flame
and started on its mad career.
“Come,” said Deerfoot, and he turned about
and ran. The smell of smoke was now strong
in their nostrils and this new foe, much more
deadly than the former ones, inspired the fugitives
with a fear that seemed almost to put
wings on their feet. A deer suddenly passed
them, wide-eyed and snorting with fright;
close behind it sped two gray wolves, the fact
that the deer was their quarry apparently
being forgotten in the fear of a common peril.
To escape by running around the fire was
out of the question. It not only traveled
straight ahead, but as it came it continually
widened its scope, the wall of flame and smoke
growing broader and broader with every moment
that passed.
The three men ran as they never had run
before. Behind them roared the racing fire,
the noise striking terror to the heart of every
living thing within hearing distance. Side by
side ran men and animals, their ancient enmities
forgotten, everyone aware of the fact
that a foe more powerful than any of them was
at their backs. Water was what they all sought,
68and unless they could reach it before the fire
did they were lost.
Neither Joseph nor Robert knew of any
water nearer than the stream they had left the
evening before. It was out of the question to
think of gaining that. Perhaps Deerfoot knew
of some lake or pond on the prairie. At any
rate he could not stop to say so now, and meanwhile
the fire raged behind them, ever nearer
and constantly increasing in fury.
CHAPTER VII A NARROW ESCAPE
69
The heat from the fire now reached the fleeing
men. All the animals had far outdistanced
them in their flight and these three were
left behind to continue the race. There was no
doubt that the fire was gaining on them
rapidly. The air about them was full of
smoke which choked and at times nearly
strangled the three fugitives. As far as either
Joseph or Robert could see, there was no place
of refuge ahead of them and both boys were
now fully convinced that escape was well nigh
impossible. They were determined to die fighting,
however, and to keep going until the very
last.
Joseph glanced behind him as he ran. As he
caught a glimpse of the great wall of smoke and
flame he could not help thinking, even in this
70moment of extreme peril, of the pictures he
used to see in the fairy books. The prairie fire
he likened to the great dragons that always
guarded the ancient treasures. Flame and
smoke always issued from their mouths and
nostrils, and so tortured was the boy’s mind
that he suddenly gained the impression that he
was being pursued by one of these dragons.
Could he escape the ravenous beast? That was
the question.
Like a race horse, the fire galloped forward
over the prairie. The air was now filled with
sparks, while the roar of the seething conflagration
grew ever louder in the ears of the fleeing
men. Ahead of them, perhaps a quarter of a
mile, appeared a row of bushes, and toward this
spot Deerfoot seemed to be making his way.
Just why he did this neither Robert nor Joseph
knew, but they followed blindly the lead of their
guide.
Robert was wondering if by any miracle they
could escape the awful peril now almost at their
heels. Joseph was bent on escaping the dragon
roaring behind them, and somehow he felt that
if they could reach the clump of bushes they
would be safe. Why he felt this way he could
71not have explained. They were now within two
hundred yards of the bushes, while the fire was
not more than twice that distance behind them.
The three fugitives were almost exhausted and
the fire traveled with at least double the speed
that they could make. Consequently the race
was an even one.
Neither boy had discarded his rifle. It was
almost second nature for a frontiersman to cling
to his gun and these two boys were no exception
to the rule. Grimly they hung on to their
rifles, and stumbling now and then, they still
plunged blindly forward. Nearer and nearer
they came to the bushes; closer and closer swept
the fire. “Can we reach the bushes?” thought
Robert, and “Can we escape the dragon?” Joseph
kept repeating again and again to himself.
A hundred yards in back of them roared the
flames. Scarcely forty yards ahead were the
bushes. They were almost enveloped by the
smoke and sparks now and it was hard to see
clearly. Robert obtained a glimpse of what he
took to be a gully just the other side of the
bushes. To Joseph’s distorted vision appeared
a moat with a castle on the opposite side; a
guard stood at the portcullis ready to let it fall.
72Could he slip through before the dragon seized
him?
Just in front of the two brothers was Deerfoot.
By words, lost in the roar of the fire,
and by gestures he urged the boys on. Their
eyes smarted from the smoke and their hearts
and lungs seemed to have reached the bursting
point, so great was the strain placed upon them.
Blindly they staggered forward, their rifles still
clutched firmly in their hands. They could see
the bushes dimly, only a few steps in front of
them now, while the fire seemed almost at their
side.
Neither boy knew just why he was striving
so hard to reach this row of bushes. What protection
could they afford? They were determined
to reach this spot, however, and with one
last supreme effort they forced their lagging
feet forward. They could feel the bushes
brush their clothes as they came among them,
and then the earth seemed suddenly to give way
under their feet and they plunged forward
headlong.
After a space of time that might have been
minutes, or days for that matter, as far as he
at the moment was able to estimate passing
73time, Joseph opened his eyes, for he had lost
consciousness when he fell. He was lying flat
on his back while Deerfoot and Robert splashed
water in his face.
“Where is the dragon?” he exclaimed, trying
to rise.
“What dragon?” asked Robert, smiling at his
brother’s remark.
“Why, the dragon that chased us of course.”
“You mean the fire, I guess.”
“It was a fire after all, wasn’t it?” exclaimed
Joseph dazedly. “Somehow I got the idea into
my head that it was a dragon. I guess I was
out of my head.”
“Well, that fire was much worse than a
dragon or any other animal that ever lived,”
said Robert feelingly. “I tell you we had a
narrow escape.”
“Where are we anyway?”
“Get up and look for yourself, if you feel
strong enough.”
Slowly and with difficulty Joseph raised himself
to his feet. Glancing about him he discovered
that they were resting near the bank of a
small stream on both sides of which the ground
rose abruptly ten or twelve feet. So this was
74the place to which Deerfoot had led them. How
lucky it was that their Indian friend had been
familiar enough with the country to know of
this place of refuge. As if in a dream Joseph
passed his hand across his forehead. It was
wet and glancing at his fingers he discovered
that they were covered with blood.
“What happened to me?” he demanded.
“You cut your head on a sharp stone when
you fell,” explained Robert. “It’s only a scalp
wound though and will soon heal up.”
“Where is the fire?”
“It jumped this gully, just after we jumped
into it,” laughed Robert. “You can hear it
roaring on across the prairie now.”
“Where’s my gun?” exclaimed Joseph suddenly.
“There,” said Robert, pointing to Deerfoot.
“Your gun landed in the water and Deerfoot
rescued it for you.” The Indian was busily engaged
in cleaning and drying Joseph’s rifle, but
as Robert spoke he looked up from his task.
“Gun go off,” he said quietly.
“What do you mean?” cried Joseph.
“See,” said Deerfoot, at the same time pointing
to his left sleeve. The Indian’s hunting
75shirt showed a ragged hole, while on it were
spots of blood.
“You mean it went off and hit you?” exclaimed
Robert. “I didn’t know that, Deerfoot.
Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Ugh,” grunted the Indian in his non-committal
manner.
“Let me see it,” demanded Joseph in alarm
as he grasped Deerfoot by the arm and pulled
up his sleeve. The bullet had grazed the flesh
of the forearm, breaking the skin, but doing no
serious hurt.
“Whew!” gasped Joseph. “It’s a lucky thing
it didn’t kill you, Deerfoot. Certainly it isn’t
my fault that you’re alive now. Why aren’t
you angry with me?”
“No your fault,” replied the Indian, gazing
into the eyes of his young white friend. Deerfoot,
like the rest of his race, disliked to display
his emotions if it could be avoided; but the Pottowattomie
often had a hard task to conceal
his affection for the two young brothers.
“What would we ever do if we lost you?”
cried Joseph. “You’re all we have left now,
Deerfoot.”
The Indian’s eyes grew moist at this remark
76and he turned quickly away. He washed Joseph’s
cut and his own wound and then bound
a strip of Joseph’s shirt around the cut in his
head. He then scrambled up the side of the
gully to gaze out over the prairie.
“What are we going to do now?” inquired Joseph
a few moments later when Deerfoot had
returned to the spot where the two boys were
seated.
“We stay here today. Go on tonight,” replied
Deerfoot.
“Isn’t it safe to travel in the daylight?”
“No,” answered Deerfoot. “Anyway, prairie
too hot.”
“That’s true,” exclaimed Robert. “I never
thought of that. The grass and bushes in the
path of the fire must still be smouldering.
We’d probably burn holes in our moccasins if
we started now.”
“Mine can’t stand much either,” said Joseph,
ruefully looking at his feet. “We’ve given
them some hard usage lately.”
“I should say so.”
Deerfoot completed the task of cleaning Joseph’s
gun, and then holding it under his arm
he sauntered off along the bank of the stream.
77“Be back soon,” he called as he disappeared
from view around a projecting corner of the
bank. The two boys now left alone, sat on the
ground and discussed their experiences and
what was ahead of them.
“I wish we were at Dixon’s Ferry,” exclaimed
Robert fervently.
“No more than I do,” said Joseph.
“I must confess,” continued Robert, “that I
don’t like this business of traveling all night
and never knowing when an Indian may jump
out from behind some tree and tomahawk me.”
“Well,” said Joseph, “when we reach Dixon’s
Ferry we’ll be all right. I wonder how many
troops are there and what they intend to do?”
“I’ve no idea. We’ll know when we get
there.”
“If that ever happens.”
“You’re getting as bad as I am,” laughed Robert.
“Let’s not be so discouraged. Deerfoot
will bring us through all right.”
“Do you think he knows what is going on at
Dixon’s Ferry?”
“I don’t know. He wouldn’t tell us if he did.”
“Evidently the Indians must have been causing
trouble for some time,” remarked Joseph.
78“Otherwise the governor wouldn’t have sent
soldiers after them as soon as this.”
“That’s right, I guess,” Robert agreed.
“Probably that band which attacked us was only
a detachment of the main body. It was undoubtedly
the same one that burned the Scotts’
home and started this fire, too.”
“Probably it was. If we ever reach Dixon’s
Ferry we’ll know it all. Do you suppose they’ll
let us enlist?”
“They will if they have any volunteers.
They’ll have a hard time keeping me out, that’s
sure.”
“I wish—” began Joseph when the sound of
a rifle shot suddenly cut him short. Both boys
sprang to their feet in alarm. The report came
from the direction in which Deerfoot had gone
and instantly the two boys’ minds were filled
with visions of dreadful things happening to
their friend.
“Bring your rifle and come along,” cried Joseph
as he began to run along the bank of the
stream. Robert was with him in an instant.
“Hold back here, Joe,” he urged. “Let me
go ahead; I’ve got the gun. Take it slow, too.”
Cautiously they approached the bend in the
79river, Robert slightly in the lead. He was holding
his rifle ready for instant use and both boys
were prepared for any emergency. As they
turned in their course they spied Deerfoot. He
was approaching them, holding his rifle in one
hand and an enormous jack rabbit in the other.
He could not repress a grin of amusement as
he saw the hostile attitude of his two young
friends.
“We thought you’d been attacked,” exclaimed
Joseph heaving a great sigh of relief.
“Me shoot rabbit,” replied Deerfoot.
“So we see,” remarked Joseph. “Don’t you
think, though, that somebody might have heard
the shot and that it may get us into trouble?”
“Nobody to hear shot,” said Deerfoot. “Nobody
on prairie after fire.”
“I guess that’s true enough,” laughed Robert.
“I’m glad to see that old rabbit, too. I suppose
he was hiding from the fire as well as we were.”
“Yes,” said Deerfoot. “He hid. Me find
him though.”
The two brothers set to work collecting such
wood as they could find in the gully and that
had escaped the flames; Deerfoot at the same
time was busily engaged in skinning the rabbit.
80In a short time a fire had been kindled and the
odor of roast rabbit filled the air. The meat
was delicious, somewhat similar to chicken in
flavor, and soon only bones remained to testify
that a rabbit had once been near that spot.
Frequently Deerfoot scanned the horizon
with a watchful eye and the day was spent
in talk and rest. As darkness once more
stole over the land, Deerfoot gave the word and
again the three fugitives set out on their tramp
to Dixon’s Ferry.
CHAPTER VIII AN INDIAN LEGEND
81
Two days later they reached their destination.
The journey had been a hard one
and it was with a great feeling of relief that
the three wearied travelers entered the small
settlement on Rock River at Dixon’s Ferry. On
their way they had endured many hardships.
Driving rainstorms on the prairies had
drenched them to the skin and often they had
been forced to flounder their way through deep
marshes and swamps.
They had crossed the old Sac trail to Canada
on their journey. This tribe, years before, had
made its way into Illinois and Wisconsin
through the lower Michigan peninsula, its original
home being north of the Great Lakes.
Deerfoot explained this fact to his young
friends, who evinced much interest at the sight
82of the old Indian highway. From Black
Hawk’s village on the Mississippi it ran east to
the Illinois River which it crossed several miles
north of Hennepin where the river turns almost
at right angles. Thence it led along the river
to the shores of Lake Michigan and then continued
northward into Canada.
At Dixon’s Ferry there was much bustle and
excitement. Over three hundred men were
gathered there under the command of Majors
Isaiah Stillman and David Bailey. All volunteers
they were and made a reckless, dare-devil
force. They had been resting several days
and were all impatient at the delay. They
were equipped with an abundance of ammunition
and supplies, and could see no reason why
they should not be allowed to start at once
in pursuit of Black Hawk and his band of
warriors.
The two brothers and their Pottowattomie
ally were enthusiastically received by these
men, especially so when Joseph told of the
massacre of his family, and how eager they
were to avenge it. Fresh clothes had been at
once provided for the new members of the battalion,
for they had lost no time in enlisting.
83A tent was assigned to them and a hearty meal
provided.
“I don’t like this delay,” exclaimed one of the
volunteers, Walter Hood by name, to Joseph
and Robert. They were seated just outside of
the tent occupied by the two brothers and Deerfoot.
The Indian had gone off somewhere and
Hood, an old trapper, had stopped to chat with
the boys. “No sir,” he repeated. “I don’t
like this delay. I want to be on the trail of
them redskins and git the job over with.”
“What’s the reason for the delay?” inquired
Joseph.
“We’re waiting for more soldiers, that’s what
it is. There’s a whole lot of them on their way
here now, and they ought to reach here at almost
any minute. I wish we could go along
without ’em.”
“How many soldiers are on their way here,
Mr. Hood?” asked Robert.
“Sixteen hundred or so, but don’t you call me
Mister Hood. My name is ‘Walt.’ That is
what I’ve been called all my life and I don’t
intend to change now.”
“All right,” laughed Robert. “I’d be very
glad to call you ‘Walt.’”
84“And you, too,” exclaimed the old trapper
turning to Joseph. “I don’t want no funny
business from you either.”
“I swear,” agreed Joseph solemnly, at the
same time raising his right hand. “Tell us
about these troops though,” he added.
“Well,” said Walt, “there’s about sixteen hundred
of them as I told you. Of that number
nearly thirteen hundred is on horseback. Governor
Reynolds is with the troops, who are commanded
by Generals Atkinson and Whiteside.
All this news I got from a messenger who arrived
here this morning.”
“Where are they coming from?” asked Joseph.
“From Fort Armstrong. That’s down on
the Mississippi you know, right close to Black
Hawk’s village and right near Rock Island,
too.”
“We’ll have about two thousand men in a few
days then, won’t we?” exclaimed Joseph. “I
don’t believe Black Hawk has half that many,
do you?”
“I don’t think so,” agreed Walt. “That’s
why I want to get started now and not wait for
the others. We’ve got enough men here now
85to lick all the Indians in North America as
it is.”
“That’s the way my father used to talk,” remarked
Robert quietly. “It is a mistake to
think that way in my opinion.”
“Please don’t ever say such a thing before
Deerfoot, anyway,” urged Joseph. “He is one
of the finest men that ever lived and I wouldn’t
offend him for anything in the world.”
“I’ll remember that,” Walt promised. “All
Indians aren’t bad anyway,” he added so seriously
that both boys laughed.
“Did you ever know any well?” asked Robert.
“Yes, indeed. I trapped all one winter with
an Ojibway up in Canada. He was a fine fellow
and amusing, too. At night we used to sit
around our fire and smoke and once in a while
I could get him to talk. He knew all the Indian
stories and legends from start to finish and they
were mighty interesting, too.”
“Tell us some of them,” urged Joseph eagerly.
“Well, now,” said Walt slowly. “I don’t
know as I can remember them. Certainly I
can’t tell ’em the way he did.”
“That doesn’t make any difference,” exclaimed
Joseph. “Tell them as best you can
86and that will be good enough for us. Isn’t that
so, Bob?”
“I should say so,” agreed Robert heartily. “I
love those Indian legends.”
“All right then,” said Walt. “I’ll try my
best. Did you ever hear the legend of ‘The
Lone Lightning’?”
“Never,” cried both boys. “Tell us that
one,” urged Joseph eagerly.
The old trapper filled his pipe deliberately.
When it was lighted and he had settled himself
comfortably against the trunk of a tree and
taken a few big puffs, he began his story.
“Once upon a time there was a little orphan
boy. He lived with his uncle who treated him
very badly and gave him but little to eat. As
a result the boy pined away and was thin and
slight and never grew much. This treatment
went on for a long time and finally the uncle
pretended to be greatly ashamed of the way
he had abused his nephew. He commenced to
feed the boy all he could eat in order to fatten
him and to make up for the hard usage he had
received. The uncle’s real plan, however, was
to kill the boy by overfeeding him.
“He told his wife to give the boy plenty of
87bear’s meat, especially the fat, as that was supposed
to be the best part. They used to force
food on the boy and one day they nearly choked
him to death by trying to cram it down his
throat. The boy finally escaped from the lodge,
however, and fled into the woods. He did not
know his way about and soon got lost. Night
fell and the boy was afraid. He climbed high
into the branches of a tall pine tree so that the
wild animals could not reach him and while up
there he fell asleep. While he was asleep he
had a dream.
“A person appeared to him from the sky and
said, ‘My poor little lad, I pity you, and the bad
usage you have received from your uncle has
led me to visit you; follow me, and step in my
tracks.’ Immediately the boy awoke and he
rose up and followed his guide, mounting
higher and higher into the air until finally he
reached the sky. Here he was given twelve
arrows and told to go to the northern skies
where there was a great many manitous or
spirits whom he must try to ambush and kill.
“So the lad set out and finally came to that
part of the sky. He shot eleven of his twelve
arrows in an attempt to kill the manitous, but
88he was unsuccessful. Every time he shot an
arrow there was a long and solitary streak of
lightning in the sky; then all became clear again
and not a cloud or spot could be seen. The boy
now had but one arrow left and he held this a
long time while he searched all about to spy
the manitous he was after. This was not an
easy task, however, for these manitous were
very cunning and could change their form instantly.
They feared the boy’s arrows, for they
were magic, and had been given to him by a
good spirit. They had power to kill the manitous
if only they were aimed right.
“Finally the boy discovered the chief of the
manitous. He drew his last arrow, aimed it
carefully and let it fly. He had directed his
aim straight at the heart of his enemy, but before
the arrow could reach him the manitou
changed himself into a rock. Into this rock
the last magic arrow plunged deep and stuck
fast.
“‘Now your gifts are all expended,’ cried the
enraged manitou, ‘and I will make an example
of your audacity and pride of heart for lifting
your bow against me.’ So saying he suddenly
changed the boy into the ‘Nazliek-a-wa-wa-sun,’
89or Lone Lightning which anyone can see in the
northern sky even to this day.”
The old trapper ceased speaking and relighted
his pipe which had gone out during the
course of his tale. Both boys remained silent
for some minutes.
“That was a strange legend,” remarked Joseph
at last.
“I should say so,” echoed Robert. “I liked it
though. I like all these stories of Indians and
what they believed.”
“So do I,” exclaimed Walt. “Indians are a
simple-minded people in a great many ways.
Their legends mean a lot to them, too.”
“Tell me,” said Joseph. “What do they
mean by ‘Lone Lightning’?”
“The northern lights, I suppose,” answered
Walt. “At least that is what I have always
taken that story to mean. If you’ve ever seen
them you know how on clear, cold nights they
flash out all over the heavens. You see the boy’s
last arrow remained stuck in the rock, so that
the light from it will always be there. The other
eleven just vanished into space, I suppose.”
“By manitou you mean a spirit, don’t you?”
inquired Robert.
90“Yes,” said Walt. “That’s just what I mean.
You see there are good spirits and evil spirits
and those up in the north were evil. The Great
Manitou is the Great Spirit whom all the Indians
worship. He is chief of all the manitous.”
“You know lots more legends, don’t you?”
asked Joseph eagerly.
“Why, yes,” replied Walt, “I do know a good
many.”
“Well, we’re always willing to listen to them,”
said Joseph.
“I could hear another right now,” suggested
Robert hopefully. “Would you mind very much
telling us one, Walt?”
“Not at all, except for the fact that from the
looks of things I think perhaps our reinforcements
are arriving.”
“Something is happening all right!” exclaimed
Joseph excitedly.
All three immediately sprang to their feet
and hurried to the western side of the camp
whither everyone else seemed to be bound.
Everybody was excitedly calling to everybody
else and all were in high spirits at the arrival
of the troops.
“Perhaps we can get started now,” said Walt
91hopefully as he hurried along beside the two
boys. “Our waiting days are about over, I
guess, and within twenty-four hours I think
we’ll be on on our way up the old Rock River.
Black Hawk had better move on before we get
very far, too, I can tell you.”
Everybody in the settlement was gathered
together in one spot, the center of attention being
a mud-spattered messenger who was talking
to Major Stillman. The boys could not hear
what he said but as they came closer to the
crowd the messenger turned and pointed. Over
the crest of a nearby hill suddenly appeared a
man on horseback. Then another came into
view, then another, and still another until the
whole hill was covered by the band of approaching
horsemen.
CHAPTER IX IN CAMP
92
“Just look at them!” exclaimed Joseph.
“There must be a thousand of them.”
“Sixteen hundred you said, didn’t you, Walt?”
inquired Robert turning to their friend as he
spoke.
“Not mounted, I think,” replied the trapper.
“I guess the rest are coming up the river in
boats and won’t be here for some time.”
“Well, with this crowd we ought to be able to
subdue Black Hawk all right,” exclaimed Joseph
eagerly. “Do you suppose we’ll have to
wait for the rest of the troops?”
“I hope not,” said Walt. “Here it is the
twelfth of May already and we should have
had the whole thing over with by this time, in
my opinion.”
As the three volunteers stood talking the
93horsemen rode into camp. General Whiteside
was in command and it was soon learned that,
as Walt had said, the remainder of the force
was coming up the river under the lead of General
Atkinson. General Whiteside had previously
been in command of frontier rangers and
had earned the reputation of being a splendid
Indian fighter.
“Any regulars with you?” inquired Walt of
one of the men who had just arrived.
“No,” replied the men, “we’re all volunteers.
General Atkinson is following with them. He
has about four hundred regular infantry and
some three hundred volunteer footmen. He is
coming up the river by boat with cannon, provision
and most of the baggage.”
“When did they start?” asked Robert.
“Three days ago; the same time we did.”
“From Fort Armstrong?” Robert inquired.
“Yes,” said the soldier. “The people on the
river are having a bad time of it, too, I’m afraid.
The water is very high and it will be hard work
to make their way against the current. There
are so many rapids, too.”
“Did you find the traveling bad?” Walt asked.
“Yes, quite bad. We came slowly, too, and
94made a stop at the Prophet’s town as well. It
was absolutely deserted.”
“Who is the Prophet?” questioned Robert.
“His name is Wabokieshiek,” explained Walt.
“He is the man who has been urging Black
Hawk on all this time. You know all Indians
are superstitious and these medicine men and
prophets exert great influence.”
“The Prophet has been encouraging Black
Hawk to make war you mean?” inquired Joseph.
“Yes,” Walt answered, “that’s just what he
has been doing. As I understand it he has
promised Black Hawk large reinforcements
from the Winnebagos, Pottowattomies and
Kickapoos and that when he has all their help
he will surely beat the whites.”
“The Prophet probably lied,” Robert exclaimed.
“Of course he did,” agreed Walt. “I don’t
think that those other tribes will help the Sacs
one bit. Certainly they won’t if they learn how
many men we have here.”
“I know one Pottowattomie who won’t join
him anyway,” said Robert.
“Who is that?”
95“Deerfoot.”
“By the way, where is he?” exclaimed Joseph
suddenly. “I haven’t seen him in a long time.”
“Perhaps he has already joined Black Hawk,”
said Walt, and he laughed in an insinuating
manner as he spoke.
“Don’t you say that!” cried Joseph hotly.
“Deerfoot is the best friend that Bob and I
have left on earth and I don’t want him slandered.”
“No, sir!” chimed in Robert. “If ever there
was a man more faithful than Deerfoot, I’ve
never seen him or heard of him. You may take
our word for it that he can always be counted
on.”
“He certainly has two loyal supporters all
right,” laughed Walt. “If you boys are so sure
he’s all right, I guess I’ll have to believe you.”
“You’d better,” exclaimed Joseph. “Now
let’s go look for him,” he added.
Their soldier friend had disappeared. His
horse needed care and he had gone to report at
headquarters and receive his orders. General
Whiteside’s division had but a scanty store of
supplies and were forced to depend upon those
which had been collected at Dixon’s Ferry.
96Fortunately they were believed to be fully adequate.
“There is a lot of feeling among our men
about joining General Whiteside, you know,”
said Walt as the three volunteers walked along.
“You mean among those who were here before
he arrived?” Joseph asked.
“Yes, I don’t care much about it either. We
want to fight in our own way, and, personally,
I don’t see why we should be tied down to the
regular levies. I had hoped we’d go on without
them.”
“We could act as scouts or rangers,” Robert
suggested.
“That’s just my idea,” Walt exclaimed. “We
could push on ahead and see what is going on
and act independently of the others. There are
three hundred and more of us and that seems
to me to be enough.”
“We’ll hear something soon anyway, I guess,”
said Joseph.
“I think so,” agreed Walt. “I must leave
you for a while now,” he added. “I’ll drop
around to your tent a little later.”
The two brothers continued on their way.
It was an interesting and exciting experience
97for them to see and feel the bustle and hustle
of a military camp and to know that they were
part of it. Horses were tethered under all the
trees, tents sprang up on all sides as if by magic,
while everywhere men were busy with the
thousand and one duties of camp life.
Soon the boys came to their own tent and
entered. Deerfoot, however, was not there and
this fact caused the brothers no little worry.
“Where do you suppose he is?” said Joseph
anxiously.
“I wish I knew,” replied Robert. “I don’t
see how anything could happen to him right
here in camp though.”
“Unless there are a lot more people like Walt
who think all Indians are bad. Most of these
men do think that, too, I’m afraid. Perhaps if
they saw Deerfoot roving around here they
might lock him up or something. Someone is
almost sure to insult him.”
“That’s true,” said Robert. “Suppose we go
out and look for him. He may be in trouble
and need help.”
They stepped outside the tent, and immediately
their gaze fell upon a sight that not only
allayed their fears but made them almost dance
98with delight. Deerfoot was approaching the
tent, astride the back of one horse, while he
was leading two others by their bridles. He
rode beautifully and seemed almost a part of
his mount as he cantered up to the place where
the two brothers were standing.
“Where did you get the horses?” cried Joseph
as Deerfoot pulled up his mount and came
to a stop in front of the tent.
“Major Stillman,” said the Indian.
“He gave them to you?” exclaimed Robert.
“One for each,” replied Deerfoot.
“Say,” cried Robert excitedly, “that is what
I call pretty fine! Where are the saddles
though, Deerfoot?”
“No more saddles,” he answered. “Me lucky
to get horses.”
“I should say so,” said Joseph. “What do
you want of a saddle anyway? You might
think you didn’t know how to ride a horse the
way you talk. We have bridles and a blanket.
Isn’t that enough?”
“It is for me. I was just asking on your account,”
and Robert winked at Deerfoot as he
spoke. Horsemanship was a part of the education
the boys had acquired from their Indian
99teacher and was a lesson they had learned as
well as they had the others he had taught them.
That was saying a great deal, too, for Deerfoot
was a master who insisted that his pupils should
always learn their lessons well.
“As though I couldn’t beat you riding any
time!” retorted Joseph hotly. “I leave it to
Deerfoot to decide which is the better rider.”
The question was not settled, however, for at
this moment Walt come riding up to the place
where they were standing in front of their
tent.
“Those your horses?” he asked.
“Yes,” said Joseph. “Deerfoot got them for
us from Major Stillman.”
“Good for him,” exclaimed Walt heartily.
“I tried to get some from him myself, but he
said he had no more horses. Deerfoot must
have influence with the major.”
“Me get last t’ree horses,” announced Deerfoot.
“That’s fine!” said Walt heartily. “You’ll all
need horses and need them soon, too.”
“What do you mean by soon?” Robert asked
curiously.
“Tomorrow morning.”
100“What!” exclaimed the two young soldiers in
one breath.
“We start after Black Hawk the first thing
tomorrow,” said Walt, smiling at the effect of
his announcement.
Deerfoot made no sign and the expression of
his face remained the same, but into his eyes
crept a light that showed he, too, was glad to
be on the trail of Black Hawk. Unconsciously
his hand fingered the knife in his belt.
“Tell us about it,” urged Joseph. “Who is
going and how does it happen that we start before
General Atkinson arrives?”
“Only the ones who were here before General
Whiteside arrived are to go,” Walt explained.
“That means us, of course. Major Stillman is
to be in command and we are to act as a scouting
party.”
“Someone must have overheard what we said
this afternoon,” laughed Joseph.
“Seems so, doesn’t it?” Walt agreed. “Anyhow
we’re going and I must say nothing has
pleased me so much in a long while. We’re off
at last and we won’t have all those others
bother us and interfere with our plans. I feel
just as if I was starting on a big lark.”
101“Tomorrow’s the thirteenth, isn’t it?” inquired
Robert solemnly.
“So it is,” laughed Walt. “Don’t worry about
that though. I’m not superstitious and you
needn’t be, either. No harm will come to us
on this trip and the only results of it will be a
lot of fun for us and a few less braves for Black
Hawk.”
“I hope you’re right,” said Robert. “I’ve always
had a queer feeling about the thirteenth
though. I wish we weren’t going until the day
after tomorrow or were going to start tonight.”
“That’s what would just suit me,” exclaimed
Walt. “I’d like to start tonight, all right.
We won’t find Black Hawk tomorrow probably
so there will be no fighting on the thirteenth
anyway, and that will kill all the bad luck you’re
afraid of.”
“No, it won’t,” protested Robert. “The point
is that we start on the thirteenth. That is what
counts.”
“Well, I wouldn’t let it worry me,” laughed
Walt. “I must be off now,” he added. “I’ll
see you at daylight tomorrow.”
He slapped his horse on its flank and galloped
away. Robert and Joseph drew lots as to
102which should have first choice of horses. Joseph
won and made his selection, if such a thing
was possible. The horses were both splendid
animals and apparently there was little to
choose between them. At any rate, both boys
were very well satisfied with their mounts.
Darkness was now coming on and dinner time
drew near. While the meal was being prepared
the boys watered and fed their new
mounts. Then they rubbed them down and
tethered them for the night. This done, they
quickly turned their attention to the food which
Deerfoot had prepared.
“It will seem good to be the one doing the
chasing for a while, won’t it?” remarked Joseph
when their meal was over. “I was getting
sort of tired of running away all the time and
I’ll be glad to see someone else run for a
change.”
“Yes, indeed,” agreed Robert heartily. “And
when we get astride those horses whoever gets
away from us will have to be pretty fast.”
“The Indians will be mounted too, won’t they,
Deerfoot?” inquired Joseph of their comrade.
“All ride,” grunted Deerfoot. “Good horses,
too.”
103“That’s all right,” said Robert confidently.
“They won’t be as good as ours and we’ll catch
them all right.”
For some time they sat and discussed what
was to happen on the morrow, and then they
prepared to turn in. A short time later they
were sound asleep, and, strange to say, both
boys dreamed of desperate encounters with
Black Hawk and his band. None of the struggles
ever came to a definite end, however, and
if such things were really to happen the next
few days would have to disclose the result of
these combats.
CHAPTER X ON THE MARCH
104
“Time to start, Bob!”
The first faint streaks of light were illuminating
the eastern sky as Joseph shook his
brother and roused him from his slumbers.
“All ready,” cried Robert, wide awake at
once. Life in the woods and on the prairies
teaches one to waste little time either in going
to sleep or in getting up in the morning.
“Deerfoot is looking after the horses,” said
Joseph. “As soon as we have washed we’ll be
ready for a bite of breakfast and then we must
join the others. They’ll start soon, I think.”
Many of their comrades fell in with the two
boys as they made their way down to the bank
of the stream. There was much laughter and
much splashing and puffing as the men drove
the last cobwebs of sleep from their brains.
105Everyone was in high spirits. They all seemed
to look upon the affair in the nature of a great
picnic, instead of actual warfare.
The two brothers could not help being affected
by the hilarity. Robert was especially
susceptible. He was more impulsive than Joseph
and was readily swayed by his ever changing
moods. One moment he was discouraged
and gloomy and then a few moments later all
his troubles were forgotten and his spirits
rose accordingly.
“Isn’t this fun, Joe?” he exclaimed enthusiastically,
as they stood on the shore and watched
the antics of their comrades.
“It is now,” agreed Joseph, who was of a
quieter and more conservative nature. “But
how long it will continue to be fun, I don’t
know.”
“Don’t be so discouraged,” laughed Robert.
“I’m not discouraged,” said Joseph quietly.
“I can’t help but think though that some of
these men take this affair too lightly.”
“Not at all,” Robert persisted. “Get into the
spirit of the thing and forget your troubles for
a while.”
“I thought you were worrying about this
106being the thirteenth of the month,” observed
Joseph, a half smile on his lips.
“That’s so,” exclaimed Robert suddenly. “I
had forgotten all about that for a moment,”
and immediately his high spirits departed and
he became quiet and thoughtful. “Let’s go
back to the tent,” he urged a moment later,
and all the way back he was silent and was
evidently troubled.
Joseph said nothing, but he was secretly
amused at the sudden change in his younger
brother. He had seen just such sudden transformations
in him before, however, and he knew
that at any moment the pendulum might swing
back and Robert become cheerful again.
“Dinner ready,” announced Deerfoot, as they
came to the tent. The Indian called every meal
dinner, no matter what time of day it happened
to be.
“All right, Deerfoot,” exclaimed Robert, his
spirits reviving already at the sight of food.
“We are ready, too.”
No time was lost in disposing of the meal
the Pottowattomie had cooked and well it was
that there was no delay, for hardly had they
finished when the bugle sounded. Joseph and
107Robert quickly grasped their rifles and after
assuring themselves that the guns were in
proper order and that their supply of ammunition
was sufficient, sprang upon the backs of
their horses. The animals had been used but
little recently and as a result of their good care
they were in fine fettle. It was some moments
before the two young volunteers could calm
down their mounts sufficiently to enable them
to join the others.
Finally, however, they succeeded in obtaining
control of the beasts and in company with
Deerfoot cantered to the place where the men
were forming. Nearly three hundred and fifty
there were all together and the command to
advance was soon given. Major Stillman was
at their head and they trotted out of Dixon’s
Ferry spurred on by the cheers of General
Whiteside’s men who were left behind.
Walt had now joined his two young friends
and their Indian ally. He rode side by side
with them and laughed and joked continually.
“Good-bye,” he called gaily to an acquaintance,
who stood nearby. “Sorry you aren’t
going with us.”
108“You’re lucky dogs,” was the man’s only comment
on Walt’s remark.
“That’s the way I feel about it myself,” exclaimed
Walt to his companions. “We’re going
out to have some fun and those poor fellows
have to stay at home. We’ll probably finish
the whole business up and not give them a
chance to do anything.”
“It’s the thirteenth today, don’t forget that,”
warned Robert.
Walt only laughed and soon dropped behind
to chat with some friend of his in the company.
The advance was most disorderly. No regular
formation was attempted and the men were soon
scattered and spread over a considerable space.
The only apparent plan seemed to be to follow
the course of the Rock River and this was done,
each man practically acting upon his own responsibility.
They proceeded leisurely, Major
Stillman apparently being in no hurry. A stop
was made for dinner in the middle of the day
and that night camp was pitched in a grove of
oak trees not far from the bank of the river.
Fires were soon burning brightly and the
smell of food cooking reminded every one just
how hungry he was. A day on horseback produced
109a hearty appetite and full justice was
done to the meal. Many of these backwoodsmen
were excellent cooks too. They were in
the habit of often preparing their own meals
and had really become expert in the art of plain
cooking.
“This is what I like!” exclaimed Robert
when the meal was over and they were seated
about the camp fire. At this particular blaze
were eight or ten men gathered and many similar
groups were to be seen on all sides of them.
The men were rough and hearty frontiersmen
and it was a great treat to the two brothers to
listen to some of the tales that were told of
hunting and fishing adventures.
“So you like this, do you, Red?” said one of
the men.
“You mean me?” demanded Robert quickly.
“I should say I did,” laughed the man, a big,
burly trapper. “I never saw any hair redder’n
yours in my life.”
Everyone present laughed at this remark,
much to Robert’s displeasure. What irritated
him most of all, however, was the fact that his
brother laughed much louder than anyone else.
“Look here!” said Robert angrily. “You’d
110better not laugh at me. If I had hair the color
of yours I think I’d keep pretty quiet. I’d
rather have red hair than tow-colored.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” said Joseph,
still laughing at the allusion to his brother’s
hair. “Mine suits me first rate.”
“You’re easily pleased,” muttered Robert,
but no one heard him.
“It’s too bad Deerfoot hasn’t blue hair,” said
the man who had begun the conversation.
“Then we’d have the American colors, red,
white and blue. We could put these three up
in front for a flag.”
Fresh laughter broke out at this remark and
both boys joined in it now. Everything was
said in a spirit of fun, and Robert was quick
to realize how silly it was to lose his temper.
It is no fun to tease a man who laughs at your
teasing.
“Let’s stop talking about hair and hear something
about pelts,” said Walt. “Tell us how
you got those three panther skins I saw down
at your cabin last month.”
He addressed his remarks to the man who
had called Robert “Red.” This trapper was
evidently a great favorite with the men and
111one whom they looked up to and respected.
His name was John Mason and he had originally
come from Massachusetts. That is, he
had left that part of the country when he was
only five years old, and had migrated west
with his parents. They had settled in Wisconsin
and there he had learned the business of
trapping and had followed it ever since he had
been old enough to engage in it.
“Did I tell you the experience my father
had?” inquired Mason. “How he was lost in
the woods soon after we came west?”
“Not that I remember,” Walt replied, and
the others seated about the fire shook their
heads in token that they had never heard the
tale either.
“Well,” began Mason, “it was soon after we
had arrived from the East. Of course I don’t
remember it very well, but I’ve often heard
my father relate the story. It seems we had
arrived at our future home in the summer time;
my father and mother, myself and my father’s
dog, a noble and intelligent animal he called
Robin, because when he was a puppy he had
once caught a young bird of that species. We
settled down near the bank of a small stream
112and my father set to work clearing a space in
the forest for us, and in building a house for
us to live in.
“It was no easy task for one man, equipped
only with an axe, to level much of the forest
round about, and in addition to that we had a
home to build. My mother could help some,
however, and together they finally erected a
cabin. It was small, but it was snug and promised
good shelter against the blasts of winter.
It took some time to do all this though, and
cold weather was at hand by the time the cabin
was completed and a fair-sized space had been
cleared.
“Winter approached and we had a home, and
the beginnings of a farm. It had taken a good
many weeks to acquire these things, however,
and my father had had time for little else.
Consequently our store of meat for the long,
cold months was very low. Father had had
little chance to hunt. He set out one morning,
his gun over his shoulder, Robin at his heels
and a small supply of jerked venison in his
game bag. He was in hopes of bagging a buck,
which would feed us for a long time.
“Several miles he walked through the forest.
113Usually game abounded in this region, undisturbed
except by an occasional Indian hunter.
This time, however, father saw nothing except
a flock of wild turkeys which flew away before
he could get a shot. All the morning and into
the afternoon he tramped through the woods
and over the hills. Along toward the middle of
the afternoon he suddenly spied a large stag.
Ordering Robin to follow ‘at heel’ he crept
cautiously along in an attempt to get a good
shot at the deer.
“Just before he came within range, however,
the buck suddenly took fright and bounded
away. My father followed his trail eagerly,
mile after mile. Night was almost at hand
when he discovered his game standing on a
large rock, his figure clearly outlined against
the sky. Closer and closer father crept and
finally raised his gun and fired. The deer
leaped high into the air as the shot rang out
and fell to the earth dead. Father ran forward
joyfully and a few moments later had the buck
on his back and was headed for home.
“For the first time he noticed that snow had
begun to fall. It was the first snow of the
winter and soon covered the ground and the
114branches of the nearby trees. Father had traveled
many miles that day and now was far from
home. He knew the country only slightly and
now that the snow was on the ground it was
hard to recognize landmarks. Things look
vastly different in winter from what they do
in summer and father had never seen this part
of the country in its winter coat. Meanwhile,
the storm constantly increased in fury.
“On and on father plodded. The stag was
across his shoulder and Robin followed whimpering
at his heels. Father was worried now;
he was fast tiring and he felt more sure every
moment that he had lost his way. Night now
covered the land and the snow drifted in like
some great white robe. It was bitterly cold,
and constantly growing colder. The thought of
his wife and boy was all that kept him going.
His strength was fast waning, however, and he
finally succumbed to the irresistible desire he
felt to lie down in the snow and go to sleep.
He dropped his burden and fell forward, almost
too weak to move.”
“Did he die?” demanded Walt as the story
teller stopped speaking.
“No, indeed,” replied Mason. “Here comes
115the remarkable part of the story. When father
sank to the ground Robin immediately started
for home. How he knew where it was and how
to get there I never could see. At any rate my
mother heard him whine and scratch at the
door. It was after midnight and she was nearly
distracted by fear and anxiety. She could
easily see by Robin’s actions that he wished
her to follow him, and putting on a great fur
coat she went quickly out into the blinding
storm.
“Urged on by Robin’s eagerness to have her
hurry she floundered and ploughed her way
through the drifts until she came to the place
where father was lying. He was unconscious
when she reached him. My mother was a large
woman and very strong for one of her sex.
Lucky for all of us that she was, too, for it
was necessary for her practically to carry my
father all the way back to the cabin, nearly a
half-mile. You see, father had almost reached
home himself though he hadn’t known it. Well,
she finally got him there and after hours of
hard work revived him. For many days he lay
sick, but with mother’s constant care he finally
recovered entirely. He also fetched the stag
116home when he became able to go out. There it
had lain covered deep in the snow, frozen stiff
and as sound as ever.
“I just told this little story,” concluded Mason,
“to show you how hard some of us worked
for our homes. Now that we have them we
don’t want the Indians to take them away
from us.”
A cheer greeted this remark. These men
were always willing to applaud anything that
meant trouble for the Indians.
“That was a good story, Mason,” remarked
Walt a moment later. “It shows you had a
wonderful mother, doesn’t it?”
“It does indeed,” agreed Mason. “It shows
father had a wonderful dog, too. Without him
my mother would never have had the chance
to do what she did.”
“Quite right,” exclaimed Walt heartily and
murmurs of approval were heard on all sides.
“Yes, sir,” continued Mason. “My father
loved old Robin almost as much as he did me.
I love dogs myself and I wouldn’t be without
one for anything. Some men are bad and some
are good, but I tell you all dogs are good. You
can believe everything they tell you.”
117“Gracious, I’ve talked a lot tonight,” he
added laughingly. “I’m going to stop now
though and turn in. Tomorrow may be a hard
day. Good night, Red, and everybody else,” he
called as he disappeared into the darkness.
CHAPTER XI THE FLAG OF TRUCE
118
At the first sign of dawn the forces were
once more on the march. The men had a
quieter and sterner air than they had manifested
the preceding day. The prevailing opinion
was that before the sun set that night they
would come in contact with their foes, and in
spite of the open assertions of the men that it
was all a “picnic,” this fact made them more
serious.
The country consisted of open, rolling prairies,
frequent groves of trees and occasional
swamps. The men rode along in a careless
manner, chatting with one another and boasting
of what they would do to the hostile Sacs
when they met them. Progress was slow on
account of the disorderly march of the volunteers
and it was late afternoon before they
119reached the vicinity of Sycamore Creek where
they intended to camp. This place was hardly
more than thirty miles distant from Dixon’s
Ferry.
“We’re going to pitch camp there,” said Walt
to Joseph and Robert, at the same time indicating
a small clump of open timber some distance
ahead of them.
“That looks like a good place,” remarked
Joseph approvingly.
“It is,” agreed Walt. “You see it is entirely
surrounded by open prairie and anyone who
tries to attack us there will be completely exposed
while we will have the protection of the
trees.”
“Do you think Black Hawk would dare attack
us?” demanded Robert.
“I don’t know,” said Walt in reply. “It all
depends on how many men he has. I doubt if
he’d try such a thing though.”
“Where is he now?” inquired Robert, somewhat
alarmed by the prospect Walt had intimated.
“Somewhere near here, I think,” replied
Walt. “He is supposed to be on the other side
of Sycamore Creek with the Pottowattomies,
120trying to get them to join him in his war.
You’d better watch your friend Deerfoot, too,”
he added in a low voice.
Robert’s face flushed almost as red as his
hair at this remark. “Don’t you ever dare say
a thing like that again!” he exclaimed hotly.
“If you do, I’ll refuse to be responsible for what
happens to you.”
“And I’ll help you, Bob,” said his brother
quietly. “Now look here, Walt,” he continued.
“Bob and I like you very much and all that.
We don’t mind your fooling, but we do mind
your remarks about our friend. We told you
that once before and this time we mean it.”
Walt looked in surprise at the two brothers.
That they were in deadly earnest there could
be no doubt. Robert was so angry that he
could scarcely talk; he merely puffed and
gasped with rage. His face was red and Joseph’s
was white, but it was a question which
one was more angry.
“Whew!” whistled Walt in astonishment at
this outburst. He saw, however, that if he continued
his remarks he might be subjected to
physical violence and he wisely refrained from
saying more. He quickly changed the subject.
121“Well, we’ll be making camp in a moment,”
he said lightly.
“I’m glad of it,” remarked Joseph. “My
horse is tired and so am I. He hasn’t been
used much lately, I guess, and is soft.” He
was willing to forget the recent unpleasantness
and be friends again, but Robert was not so
easily pacified. His face was still flushed and
he rode forward in silence. Joseph glanced at
him and smiled. He admired his brother’s
courage and he also knew that his anger would
soon disappear. Robert was one who never
let the sun go down upon his wrath, simply
because he could not stay angry for that length
of time.
Soon they arrived at their destination. The
men quickly dismounted and after tethering
their horses, they busied themselves with preparations
for making camp. Meanwhile, guards
were stationed all around the grove to watch
for possible signs of the enemy. The men’s
good spirits had now returned and they laughed
and joked as they idled about or worked on
their shelters for the night.
“It looks like a great big picnic ground
here,” remarked Joseph to Robert and Deerfoot
122as they stood together and gazed about
them.
“Too jolly,” said Deerfoot grimly and he
shook his head. He held Black Hawk in high
esteem and was troubled by the evident carelessness
of the white men.
“That’s right, Deerfoot, they are too jolly,”
agreed Robert solemnly. “They forget that we
started on the thirteenth.”
“Oh, Bob—” began Joseph, when he was suddenly
interrupted. A great hubbub and noise
suddenly arose throughout the camp and the
men rushed wildly hither and thither. All was
confusion, as every man strove to get his horse
and mount it.
“What is it? What is the trouble?” exclaimed
Robert in alarm.
“Look there,” directed Joseph.
On the crest of a hill nearly a mile away
appeared three horsemen. That they were Indians
was easily seen by their headdresses.
One of them carried a flag.
“Who are they, do you suppose?” exclaimed
Robert excitedly. He and Joseph and Deerfoot
all ran for their horses, but they did not
mount. They were waiting for orders, but the
123other men were apparently mad with excitement,
or at least many of them. Shouting and
cursing, a large body of them dashed off across
the prairie in the direction of the three Indians.
Major Stillman and the other officers did their
utmost to restrain their followers, but their
efforts were useless. The rangers were not accustomed
to discipline and obeying orders, and
now they paid slight attention to the commands.
“We’ll stay here,” said Joseph. “We’ll show
Major Stillman that a few of us know enough
to do as we’re told, anyway.”
“Who are those Indians, I want to know?”
cried Robert.
“Black Hawk men,” said Deerfoot.
“But what is that flag?” Robert persisted.
“White flag,” explained the Indian, whose
eyesight was far better than that of either of
his young friends.
“Sure enough,” exclaimed Joseph. “They’re
probably messengers from Black Hawk.
They’ve got a flag of truce anyway.”
“It doesn’t look as if it was going to be respected
though,” said Robert. “Just see the
way those men are rushing at the messengers.”
124“Walt was about the first to start, too. Did
you notice that?”
“He’ll get into trouble, I’m afraid.”
“He didn’t even have a saddle on his horse,”
said Joseph. “I noticed lots of the others that
way, too. I never saw men in such a hurry.”
As they stood and watched their companions
bear down upon the messengers, grave fears
arose in the hearts of the two brothers. They
did not care for their Indian foes any more
than did the other men, but they believed in
playing the game fairly. They knew how high
an Indian’s sense of honor was and they feared
for the result if these hot-headed rangers
should do violence to Black Hawk’s messengers.
Long association with Deerfoot had taught
them that an Indian never forgets an injury
done him any more than he does a kindness.
Meanwhile, the mob of riders had swooped
down upon the astonished messengers. Surrounding
the three Indians they shouted and
waved their arms and urged the braves on until
they came into camp. Here more of the volunteers
swarmed around the envoys, and yells
and imprecations sounded on all sides. Major
Stillman did his utmost to put an end to the
125confusion and to quiet the hubbub. Standing
in the center of the howling mob of men he
tried to speak. The three Indians sat on their
ponies at a loss to account for this demonstration
and evidently were worried as to their own
safety.
“My men,” began Major Stillman, “these
three messengers have come to us under a flag
of truce. It is one of the rules of warfare that
any bearer of a white flag is to be treated with
respect. So far——”
The report of a rifle suddenly rang out, cutting
short the words of the speaker. One of
the Indians pitched forward on his horse. He
clutched convulsively at the bridle in an effort
to save himself, but his attempt was of no avail.
The horse plunged and reared, and the rider,
slipping from his place, fell to the ground, dead.
Some one of the volunteers had treacherously
murdered one of the messengers.
Immediately pandemonium broke loose. Confusion
reigned before, but it was nothing compared
to the din that now arose. Men shouted
and ran in all directions, horses reared and
kicked, orders were given, but no one paid any
attention to them. The men were stunned by
126what had happened and by the time some semblance
of order had been restored the two remaining
messengers were seen galloping at full
speed across the prairie in the direction from
which they had come.
“There they go!” shouted Walt, who had
been in the thick of things all this time. He
quickly jumped for his horse, and, followed
by several score of the rangers, immediately
started in hot pursuit of the two fleeing Indians.
“Come on, Joe, we might as well go too,”
called Robert excitedly and a moment later the
two brothers, closely followed by Deerfoot,
were also speeding across the prairie after the
excited horsemen.
Suddenly about twenty men disengaged themselves
from the main body, and, urged on by
the calls and shouts of several of their band,
dashed off in another direction. Joseph and
Robert were at a loss to understand this move
until they gained the summit of a nearby knoll
and spied five more Indians. Evidently they
had been sent forward by Black Hawk to spy
on the encampment and to see what treatment
the messengers had received. One look had
127been enough for them and they were now fleeing
for their lives.
Close behind them sped their pursuers,
shouting and firing their guns as fast as they
were able. Even as the two young brothers
caught sight of them, one of the spies threw up
his hands and pitched headlong to the ground.
The riderless horse followed its companions
for a short distance and then stopped and began
to crop the grass on the prairie.
A moment later another one of the Indians
was brought down, while the three who were
still left, kept on, and, thanks to the fleetness
of their ponies, gradually outdistanced their
pursuers.
“We’d better stick to the main body,” exclaimed
Joseph, and at his word they turned
and followed the men who were still chasing
the two remaining messengers. The Indians
on fresh horses had left their pursuers far behind,
but they still could be seen in the distance.
Across the prairie in hot pursuit rushed
Major Stillman’s entire force, a motley, disorganized
and very much excited throng.
CHAPTER XII THE ROUT
128
Joseph, Robert, and Deerfoot by fast riding
finally caught up with the advance
guard of the volunteers. The men were in a
frenzy of excitement and rushed forward pell
mell with no other thought than to overtake
the fleeing Indians. Sycamore Creek was ahead
of them and this stream the escaping messengers
had already crossed. Their horses could
be seen scrambling up the opposite bank and
a moment later they disappeared behind a
heavy fringe of bushes.
With loud shouts the pursuers rushed forward.
That there could be any possible danger
to them Major Stillman’s men did not seem
to consider. Each man was intent on being the
first to overtake the fleeing redmen. Deerfoot,
however, knew the man they were dealing with
129and was consequently more cautious. Mounted
on an especially swift pony he outdistanced the
rest of the force and was the first to reach
Sycamore Creek. There he stopped and wheeling
his pony held up his hand.
The whole force came to a stop. Deerfoot
raised himself in his stirrups. “No go ahead
now,” he called in a loud voice. “I fear ambush.”
His remarks were greeted with howls of derision.
Shouts and jeers were flung at the
Pottowattomie, and a few even went so far as
to intimate that probably Deerfoot was in
league with Black Hawk and was attempting
to save his ally from destruction. At any rate,
no one paid any attention to his words of warning.
Once more the rangers spurred their
horses forward.
“Come on, Joe,” called Robert excitedly.
“We mustn’t be left out of this.”
“Did you hear what Deerfoot said?”
“I know, but he’s overcautious sometimes.
Even if he is right we can’t stay behind
now. Major Stillman himself ordered the
advance.”
“No one seems to obey him very often,
130though,” remarked Joseph grimly. “At least
they only do when they feel like it.”
“Are you coming?”
“Of course I am,” retorted Joseph as he
urged his horse forward.
Some fifty or more of the rangers had already
crossed the creek and the two young
brothers were quick to follow. Into the water
they plunged and a few moments later were
safe on the other side of the stream. Nearly
the whole force had now forded Sycamore
Creek or were in the act of doing so. As soon
as they had emerged from the water they hurried
forward on their quest.
Joseph glanced at Deerfoot. The Indian
evidently was anxious and fearful of what was
in store for them. He clutched his tomahawk
firmly in his right hand, while his eyes constantly
searched the nearby bushes for possible
signs of the enemy.
Nothing had happened so far, however, and
Joseph began to think that perhaps his brother
had been right when he said that Deerfoot was
sometimes overcautious. The pace was swift
now and at least two hundred yards had been
covered since they had left the creek. The
131spot seemed ideal for an ambush, but there was
no sign of the hostile Sacs as yet. Joseph
felt more confident each moment.
His confidence was shortlived, however.
Just as the force of rangers came to a particularly
dense growth of bushes and timber,
a yell rent the air. A blood-curdling, ear-splitting
war whoop sounded that from its volume
apparently issued from hundreds, perhaps
thousands of throats. Everyone of the rangers
drew in his horse sharply and glanced about him
in astonishment. The yells were continuous
and seemed to increase in volume. But where
did they come from? Not a sign of the enemy
was to be seen.
Suddenly, however, the Indians appeared.
Every tree and bush seemed to split open and
belch forth a bloodthirsty, yelling savage with
a tomahawk in his hand. All the warriors were
on horses, and forward they charged at full
speed. They had rifles as well, and from these
they poured a deadly stream of bullets into the
front ranks of the rangers.
The volunteers, however, made no resistance.
Instantly they wheeled their horses and at full
speed turned and fled for their lives.
132It was now Black Hawk’s opportunity to
exult and to take his turn as the pursuer.
Terror filled the hearts of Major Stillman’s
men, and in spite of the efforts of their commander
to rally them, they made off as fast as
their mounts could carry them.
The rout was complete. From behind came
the exultant yells and shrieks of the Indians
who were bending every effort to overtake and
cut down their white foes. They were still a
considerable distance behind, however, and fortunate
it was for the volunteers that such was
the case.
Joseph, Robert and Deerfoot, once side by
side, were now separated and with no other
choice they were obliged to flee with their comrades.
The two young brothers had stood their
ground when the Indians first charged and
each had emptied his rifle at the onrushing
warriors. No one else of their company, however,
had seemed inclined to stay with them.
Consequently, as it undoubtedly meant certain
death for them to face their foes alone, they too
turned their horses and joined in the mad flight.
They did not even have time to see the effect
of their bullets.
133As Joseph bent low over his horse’s back
and urged the animal forward, a man white with
terror came alongside and by reason of his
swifter mount soon passed him. It was Walt.
Even at such a time, Joseph could not repress
a grim smile, as he saw the traces of fear
written all over the man’s face. Walt, the one
who had boasted of his prowess and his ability
to deal with the hostile Indians, was now running
like a scared rabbit for safety. Joseph’s
smile changed to a snort of disgust.
A bullet whirred past his head. Just ahead
of him a man crumpled up in his saddle and
slid to the ground, a limp mass that but a few
moments before had been a human being. Joseph
shuddered involuntarily at the sight, but
he could not stop. His thoughts were not for
his own safety alone, however. He wondered
what had become of Robert and of Deerfoot.
He raised his head to look about him in an
attempt to discover their whereabouts. A bullet
struck his cap, tearing it from his head, and
Joseph made no further effort to find his
brother.
Ahead of him, on both sides and behind him
was a confused mob of panic-stricken horsemen.
134The blood-curdling yells of the Indians sounded
constantly over the prairie, as the men sped
onward in their attempt to escape a massacre.
Into Sycamore Creek they plunged. Coming
out on the other side they kept on in mad disorder,
until they had reached the clump of trees
where their camp was pitched. They did not
stop there, however, nor did they seem to have
any thought of checking their flight.
Every man in the expedition seemed intent
on putting as much space as possible between
himself and the yelling pursuers, who were now
pressing them so closely.
“Fools,” thought Joseph to himself, as they
passed the camp. “Why don’t they stop here?
We could defend this place against ten times
our number. With the trees for protection and
the Indians still on the open prairie we could
pick them off at our leisure.”
No one else seemed to share Joseph’s views,
however, or if any one did he did not try to
put the plan into execution. On they sped, becoming
more scattered and more demoralized
every moment. Many men had been killed and
Joseph himself had seen several fall from their
horses. As far as he could determine no one
135tried to oppose the Indians either. A few shots
had been fired at first, but since that time every
man seemed to be more interested in the fleetness
of his pony than he did in offering any
resistance to the pursuers.
As some of the ponies were much swifter
than others the volunteers were soon strung out
in a long line over the prairie. To his dismay,
Joseph suddenly noticed that man after
man was passing him and leaving him behind.
He could not be sure whether or not the shouts
of the Indians sounded closer, but he was
greatly alarmed to see himself being outdistanced
by so many of his comrades.
His pursuers were not yelling as much as
they had been. That they had not given up
the chase, however, was manifest by the fact
that above the pounding of the horses’ hoofs
could be heard the frequent bark of the rifles.
Joseph knew that it would be a long time before
the Indians would relinquish such an opportunity
to avenge themselves upon their enemies,
the Americans.
He could see that his pony was tiring fast
and that his predicament would soon be desperate
unless something speedily occurred to
136aid him. It was only a question of time before
his horse would break down under the strain
and then the young pioneer’s case would be
almost hopeless. Joseph raised his head and
glanced about him.
A short distance ahead, and a little to one
side, he spied a ravine. A narrow gully, filled
with bowlders and scrubby trees, appeared to
Joseph’s gaze and he quickly decided to enter
it, for perhaps he might find a place of refuge.
He turned his horse and plunged into the
ravine.
As he urged his horse to a final effort his
mind turned to Robert and Deerfoot. What
had become of them? If they had been killed,
or far worse, captured, Joseph would be left
all alone in the world. A lump arose in his
throat at the thought. This was no time for
sentiment, however, and he quickly suppressed
his feelings and devoted his whole attention to
his own safety.
A short distance in advance of him he spied
a thick clump of bushes. Toward these Joseph
hurried and upon reaching the spot was overjoyed
to find that they would afford a screen
sufficient to hide him from the gaze of anyone
137who should pass that way. On the other hand
he could look out from his refuge and see all
that was taking place around him.
He tethered his horse to one of the roots of
a large tree, which had been torn from its place
by some great wind. Making sure that in his
hiding place he and his horse were well concealed,
he crawled cautiously along the trunk
of the fallen tree, until he reached a spot from
which he could see the surrounding country.
Hardly had he been in his place a moment
when he heard the clatter of hoofs and not
fifty feet from him he spied five Indians riding
past at full speed in pursuit of the flying volunteers.
CHAPTER XIII THE WHINNY OF A HORSE
138
Close behind these Indians came five more
and then a little squad of three. Next
appeared one solitary brave, his war paint
shining while he shouted at the top of his voice.
Joseph shuddered as he saw these savages dash
past him and involuntarily he drew back further
on the tree trunk. He had no desire to be
seen by any one of his bloodthirsty foes, especially
at this time when they were so filled with
confidence and their desire to kill.
“If I count the number of Indians who pass
this way,” thought Joseph, “I can tell just how
many may return and in that way I can tell
whether or not there are any between me and
Dixon’s Ferry. When I am sure that all have
returned I can start out and take my time
about getting back.”
139This seemed to Joseph an excellent plan and
he proceeded to put it into execution. The only
trouble was that he expected at least several
hundred of Black Hawk’s party to pass that
way in their pursuit of Major Stillman’s men,
and undoubtedly it would take a long time before
they would return. Then, too, there was
always the chance that some might go back to
their camp by a different route and thus escape
his notice. At any rate he decided to make
an attempt at carrying out his scheme.
Thus far he had counted fourteen warriors.
No more appeared for some time and Joseph
began to wonder where the main body was.
Certainly the fleeing volunteers had passed his
hiding place, and if the Indians intended to
overtake them they must follow the same
course.
“Here they come,” thought Joseph as once
more he heard the clatter of hoofs on the prairie.
Peering out cautiously he was surprised
to see only four Indians in the party. He
heard more approaching, however, and soon an
additional band of six appeared. This last detachment
was not riding as hard as the ones
who had passed previously. They seemed to
140be in no hurry and were apparently debating
whether or not they should give up the pursuit
of the rangers.
Suddenly Joseph heard a shout and saw the
six warriors abruptly halt. They turned and
awaited the approach of a solitary brave a hundred
yards or more to their rear. When he
came up to them, the seven Indians gathered
in a circle and held a spirited discussion. Joseph
fancied that the argument was as to
whether they should push on or give up the
chase and return to camp. Evidently his surmise
was correct, for at the expiration of a
few moments the entire band started back in
the direction from which they had come.
“That makes twenty-five Indians I have
counted altogether,” thought Joseph. “I wonder
what has happened to all the others who
attacked us?”
Many minutes passed, however, and no more
appeared. “Seven already returned,” said Joseph
to himself. “That makes eighteen more
I must wait for. I hope they won’t be long and
that they won’t discover me.” The thought of
what might happen to him, should his hiding
place be found by any of the marauders, made
141him shudder. He turned and glanced at his
horse. The animal stood with drooping head,
evidently thoroughly tired from its exertions.
That he would soon be overtaken if it came to
a question of speed was only too evident to the
youthful frontiersman. It seemed to Joseph
that hours elapsed before he heard any more
hoofbeats on the prairie indicating that more of
his enemies were returning. He was tired and
it was all he could do to keep awake. Several
times the young volunteer almost dropped off
to sleep and the use of all his will power was
required to shake off this feeling of drowsiness.
Joseph knew that any such lapse might easily
prove fatal to his chances of escaping.
Finally, however, he heard a noise and as
he peered out from his hiding place he discovered
a band of ten Indians approaching. They
trotted along in a careless manner, evidently
confident that no danger was lurking near at
hand. That this was the case was fully realized
by Joseph who wondered what would befall
him if he should shoot at any one of the band.
From his station in the ravine he could easily
have selected his man and found no difficulty
in bringing him down. He might even kill two
142or possibly three of his foes, but he was largely
outnumbered and it would only be a question
of time before he must either be killed or taken
prisoner.
“They’ll never capture me alive,” thought
Joseph decidedly. He knew that in such a case
his doom would be surely sealed and undoubtedly
preceded by tortures that made his blood
run cold even to think about. It was hard for
him to restrain himself, however, as he watched
his enemies jog past the place where he lay
hidden. He fingered his rifle nervously and
once or twice even raised it to his shoulder.
At length the Indians passed beyond his
sight and Joseph settled himself to wait for
the remaining eight. He was not kept in suspense
long, for in a few moments six more
rode by. They talked freely among themselves
and were apparently discussing their victory.
Gestures were frequently used in the course of
their conversation, and everyone seemed to be
trying to outdo the others in boasting of his
conquest.
“Only two more,” thought Joseph as this
party disappeared. “I wish they’d hurry up
and come, too.” The young pioneer was greatly
143puzzled to know what could have happened to
the remainder of Black Hawk’s band. He had
been sure that the volunteers were attacked by
at least several hundred warriors. Little by
little, however, he began to change his ideas
as he saw the few that had followed in pursuit of
the white men. “Could it be possible,” he
thought, “that over three hundred white men
had been put to flight by a mere handful of
Indians?” He had counted twenty-five in all
and he doubted if more than twice that number
could have attacked them in the first place.
“What a disgrace,” he thought. “We ran
like a lot of cowards. The first shout scared
us away and we didn’t even stop to see how
many there were against us.” He became still
more angry as he thought of the rout and when
he recalled the look of fear on Walt’s face a
snort of disgust and contempt expressed his
feelings in the matter.
Once more, however, his thoughts were interrupted
by the sound of horses’ hoofs. A moment
later two Indians came within sight and
Joseph heaved a sigh of relief as he realized
that these were the last he was waiting for.
In a few moments more he could mount his
144horse and proceed to Dixon’s Ferry and then
he could discover what had befallen Robert and
Deerfoot.
The Indians were now opposite Joseph’s
lookout. He remembered distinctly seeing
these men pass before, for one of them rode a
spotted pony, easily distinguished from all the
others. As Joseph noted this fact, the pony
in question suddenly thrust his head forward
and whinnied. This in itself was not remarkable,
but its consequences certainly were.
Joseph was horrified to hear from behind him
the answering whinny of his own horse. That
this desire for company on the part of his horse
might easily have fatal results the young frontiersman
knew only too well. His limbs were
almost paralyzed as with wide eyes he watched
his two foes to see if they had heard the sound.
That they had done so was only too evident
from their actions. They immediately wheeled
their ponies and peered eagerly in the direction
from which the unexpected sound had come.
Spellbound, Joseph watched them. Perhaps
they might pass on after all, thinking their ears
had deceived them. That there was but slight
chance of this, however, he well knew, and for
145a moment he thought his best plan would be
to fire at them. On second thought he decided
that the sound of the shots might summon help
to the redskins and that was the last thing
Joseph desired to happen.
Motionless, and with their guns ready for
instant use, the two warriors sat and looked
straight at Joseph’s hiding place. He knew
they could not see him from the place where
they were stationed, and he hoped and prayed
that they would not investigate. This hope was
quickly dissipated, however, for suddenly his
horse whinnied again. For a moment the
young volunteer was so angry he could have
shot the animal, but he knew that any such
action would only spell ruin to his chances of
escape. At any rate, the horse knew no better
and was probably lonesome.
No sooner had the sound reached the ears
of the waiting Indians than they raised their
guns and fired. Two bullets came crashing
through the bushes close to Joseph’s head and
he heard one of them flatten itself against a
rock just behind him. Taking quick aim he
fired his own rifle and saw one of the Indian’s
ponies drop to the ground. He waited for no
146more, but jumping quickly upon the back of
his horse he sped away down the ravine.
A hundred yards in advance of him the gully
led out onto the open prairie. Soon Joseph
emerged; his appearance was greeted by a yell
of rage, and two bullets which whistled past his
ears. Glancing behind him the young volunteer
saw the Indian, whose horse had been shot,
struggling to reload his gun, while the one that
was mounted on the spotted pony was speeding
forward in hot pursuit.
Joseph bent low over the neck of his horse
and urged the animal to do its best. He had
one bullet in his rifle and this he decided to
use only when he could be reasonably sure of
hitting his mark. Behind him he heard the
war whoop of the pursuing redman, and this
time Joseph knew that he was engaged in a
race for life, such as he had never had before.
The opportunities were more equal this time,
but the Indian being behind had whatever advantage
there was. “His life or mine,” decided
Joseph.
How long could his horse hold out? That
was the question that most of all troubled the
young pioneer. He realized how far and how
147fast his mount had already traveled that day,
and grave fears for the animal’s endurance
beset Joseph’s mind.
Once more he glanced behind him. The Indian
was gaining rapidly upon him. The
spotted pony was evidently very fleet and the
distance between the two racers was rapidly
diminishing. Joseph’s heart sank at the sight.
He was tempted to turn and fire at his pursuer
now. Nearly a hundred yards still separated
them, however, and Joseph knew only too well
that any chance of success at that distance was
very slight. Dangerous as it was he decided
to save his ammunition and run the risk of
still being alive when a better opportunity
should present itself.
On they sped, the horses’ hoofs beating a
sharp tattoo on the hard ground of the sunbaked
prairie. The brush seemed to interfere
with his horse’s progress while the spotted
pony which his pursuer rode ran easily and
apparently was unhampered by any obstructions.
“What a pony that is,” thought Joseph.
“If we could only trade mounts he’d never
catch me. I could laugh at him and simply run
away as I pleased.”
148A quick look about him showed Joseph that
now scarcely more than fifty yards was between
him and his enemy. “Why doesn’t he
shoot?” exclaimed the young volunteer out loud.
“If he’d only fire and miss me I could stop and
shoot him down before he has a chance to reload.”
As if following Joseph’s suggestion the Indian
suddenly raised his gun and fired. The
fleeing boy was crouching so low that he seemed
almost a part of his horse’s back. As he saw
the redskin lift his gun to take aim he flattened
himself out still further and held his breath as
he waited for the result of the shot.
At last the time had come which was to decide
his fate. As the sharp bark of the Indian’s
rifle sounded over the prairie Joseph felt a
burning sensation in the fleshy part of his
shoulder. He was wounded. It was his left
shoulder, however, and so excited was the
young volunteer that he scarcely felt the pain
of the wound. He quickly stopped his horse
and straightening up in the saddle lifted his
gun to his shoulder.
The Indian seeing that he was tricked tried
desperately to turn his pony. At the same time
149he hurled his tomahawk, but the distance was
too great and it fell short of its mark. Joseph
pulled the trigger and immediately the Indian
threw up his hands. For a moment he struggled
convulsively to keep his seat, but it was
of no avail. He fell to the ground, dead, a
bullet through his temple.
Joseph was stunned for a moment, and then,
realizing that he was safe once more, a great
wave of joy swept over him. He felt no remorse
at having killed this man, for by doing
so his own life had been saved. Perhaps, too,
this Indian was one of those who had massacred
his family. The young volunteer dismounted
and drew near to his fallen foe.
The young Indian was lying face down upon
the ground. Joseph rolled him over and noticed
at his belt two freshly taken scalps. Suddenly
a great wave of horror rushed over the
young frontiersman as he looked. One of the
scalps at the Indian’s belt was bright red.
CHAPTER XIV THE SWALLOW
150
For a moment Joseph was too stunned to
move. Shaking all over with anguish he
stood still and looked at the blood-stained trophy
fastened at the Indian’s belt. The hair
was exactly the color of Robert’s, and Joseph
felt sure that his brother had fallen a victim
to this redskinned warrior. A great sob rose
in the boy’s throat and the tears welled up into
his eyes, as he stood on the prairie and gazed
at what he considered the proof of his brother’s
death.
“The only one left,” thought Joseph. “My
whole family wiped out by Black Hawk. Thank
goodness, I am still here and I swear I’ll have
revenge.” He clenched his fists and gritted his
teeth as he thought of all he had suffered at
the hands of the savages.
151How long he stood in this place he did not
know. It might have been seconds and it might
have been hours, as far as he was concerned,
for the young pioneer had lost all sense of time.
He was completely wrapped up in his own
thoughts. A coyote barked and at the sound
Joseph raised his head. He looked about him,
but the only sign of life he saw was the two
ponies browsing quietly nearby.
“I’d better get out of here,” exclaimed the
young volunteer suddenly. “There’s no telling
how soon those other savages may be on my
trail if that fellow whose horse I shot only
gives the alarm.” He started to remove the
scalp from the Indian’s belt, but suddenly drew
back. “I can’t! I can’t touch it!” he moaned.
He turned and walked toward the place where
his horse was feeding. The animal raised its
head and watched Joseph’s approach, but made
no effort to escape.
The young pioneer grasped the bridle and
was about to climb into the saddle when a sudden
idea struck him. “Why not take the other
pony, too?” he thought. Surely it was a beautiful
animal and much faster than any horse
Joseph had seen among the volunteers. A
152few moments later he was seated astride the
spotted pony on his way to Dixon’s Ferry.
With one hand he led his own horse and at a
good rate of speed jogged forward on his way.
His new mount had a remarkable gait, which
Joseph could not help admiring. Joseph’s
heart was heavy and his spirits were low, but
in spite of his sorrowful feelings, he did not
fail to realize that the pony which had fallen
into his hands was a prize. “The kind of a
horse I’ve always wanted to own but never
expected to,” he thought.
Hour after hour he jogged across the prairie
until at last he spied Dixon’s Ferry in the distance.
No sign of the enemy had appeared
throughout the day, though Joseph had taken
pains to search the horizon every few moments.
The end of his journey was in sight, though
this knowledge gave but little pleasure to the
young volunteer. He kept wondering what he
should do now that he was left alone, bereft of
parents, sisters and brother.
Coming into Dixon’s Ferry, Joseph met a
large force as it was departing from the little
settlement. General Whiteside was in command
and the object of the expedition was to
153bury the dead left on the battlefield by Major
Stillman. General Atkinson had now arrived
with his troops and Dixon’s Ferry presented
a busy scene. The fight of the previous day
was the main topic of conversation and consternation
and bewilderment had taken possession
of the men.
Joseph rode quietly through the camp,
searching eagerly for a familiar face. He did
not arouse any particular comment as he came
in with his two horses, for more than a thousand
men were departing with General Whiteside
at just that time and the young volunteer
was overlooked in the crowd. Suddenly he
spied Deerfoot, seated under a large tree smoking
his long pipe. His back was toward Joseph,
so that he approached close to the Indian without
being seen.
“Deerfoot!” Joseph called, as he stopped his
horses under the tree where the Pottowattomie
was seated.
The Indian jumped to his feet as if he had
been a jumping-jack. His pipe fell to the
ground and broke into a thousand bits while
he stared at Joseph with startled eyes. For
once he forgot to mask his feelings.
154“What’s the matter?” demanded Joseph in
amazement.
“Me thought you dead,” said Deerfoot in an
awestruck voice.
“Not at all. I’d just as lief be, though.”
Deerfoot stared and stared at his young
friend as if he could not believe his eyes.
Finally he apparently convinced himself that it
was no apparition that he saw, and his gaze
shifted to the horse Joseph rode. Once more
he started perceptibly. “Where you get that
pony?” he demanded.
“I captured him.”
“Where his rider?”
“He’s dead.”
“You shoot him?” asked Deerfoot.
“Yes.”
“You not catch him when he ride that pony,”
said the Indian decidedly.
“No,” said Joseph, “he caught me.” He proceeded
to tell Deerfoot of his encounter on the
prairie and how he had finally shot his pursuer.
“You act as though you had seen this pony
before, Deerfoot,” he added.
“Sure that The Swallow,” said Deerfoot
quietly.
155“The Swallow?” repeated Joseph. “How
does it happen that you know his name and
recognized him when you saw him?”
“Everyone know that pony,” replied Deerfoot.
“Why do they?” Joseph demanded.
“He fastest horse in country.”
“What!” exclaimed the young frontiersman.
“The fastest horse in the country, you say?
What do you mean?”
“He called The Swallow,” said Deerfoot.
“He run as fast as swallow fly.”
“Whew!” whistled Joseph in amazement.
“It looks as though I had found a pretty good
horse, doesn’t it? Who owned him?”
“White Owl,” replied Deerfoot. “He one of
Black Hawk young men.”
“Do you suppose it was White Owl I killed?”
“That so. He no let any other ride pony.”
“Well,” exclaimed Joseph bitterly, “I’m glad
I killed him and got his horse. I’d give him
back both if I could, if he’d only return what
he took from me.”
“What he take from you?” asked Deerfoot.
“I guess you know as well as I do,” cried
Joseph, his voice choking with emotion. “If
156you’d seen the scalp he had, you’d know. If
Robert isn’t dead, why isn’t he with you now?”
“Because he’s been down taking a swim in
Rock River,” said a voice nearby, and turning
around Joseph saw his brother standing not
five feet distant from the spot where he and
Deerfoot were talking. His teeth showed in a
radiant smile, while his hair seemed redder
than ever before.
“Bob!” exclaimed Joseph. “I thought you
were dead.”
“Far from it,” laughed Robert. “I consider
myself one of the liveliest people in camp.”
“But I saw your scalp,” protested Joseph.
“You see it now, you mean,” said Robert.
“It is right on the top of my head, just where
it has always been.”
“Why,” said Joseph, “I killed an Indian out
on the prairie who had two scalps at his belt.
One of them had red hair, just the color of
yours. I was sure you had been killed.”
“Not I,” laughed Robert. “Deerfoot and I
wasted no time on the prairie. We were among
the first to reach Dixon’s. We were worried
about you, though. When you didn’t turn up
we were almost sure you had been killed. What
157have you been doing all this time and how did
you escape?”
Joseph related his experiences again and
then some moments were spent in admiring Joseph’s
new horse, The Swallow. “He is certainly
a beauty!” exclaimed Robert enthusiastically.
“I can easily see that everyone is going
to be very jealous of you, Joe.”
“Let them!” laughed Joseph. “They can do
anything they want, but they can’t take my
pony and they can’t catch him either.”
Deerfoot again appeared at this moment,
bringing some food for Joseph. When the
young man’s hunger had been appeased and the
horses had been cared for, the three companions
set out for a tour of the camp. Everywhere
were little excited groups of men talking
about the battle. Some of the men had not
even returned to Dixon’s Ferry, but had kept
right on to their homes, having had enough of
Indian warfare.
One gathering contained faces familiar to
the boys and this one they joined. Walt was
in the center doing most of the talking.
“Yes,” he was saying, “just as I passed that
ravine at least a hundred Indians came tearing
158out at me. They were yelling like a pack of
wolves and firing off their guns as fast as they
could load them. I shot two of them, but they
were too many and I finally decided to run for
it. I have the satisfaction of knowing that I
finished a couple of them anyway.”
“Where was that ravine, Walt?” asked Joseph
curiously.
“Hello, there, my boy!” exclaimed Walt,
catching sight of Joseph. “Glad to see you
back. We were afraid you had fallen by the
wayside. Why, that ravine I was speaking of
was near a clump of woods about a mile this
side of where our camp was pitched.”
“How many Indians did you say came out
of there?”
“Why, about seventy-five or a hundred.
What are you laughing at?” he demanded as a
smile overspread Joseph’s face.
“Nothing,” replied Joseph quietly, “except
this: I spent most of last night in that ravine
you were describing.”
“What if you did?” exclaimed Walt warmly.
“That doesn’t say a hundred or more Indians
didn’t charge out from there earlier, does it?”
“Well, I don’t know,” mused Joseph. “The
159trouble with your story is this: I reached that
gully before any of the Indians. I hid there
all night and I counted every Indian that pursued
our men. I counted them as they went
out and I counted them again as they came
back, just to make sure they had all returned.”
“Do you insinuate that I am a liar?” cried
Walt, half rising to his feet.
“I insinuate nothing,” replied Joseph coolly.
“I am merely stating facts.”
Silence reigned in the little company. The
men gathered there looked curiously from one
to the other of the speakers. The situation was
tense and for a moment it seemed as if there
might be trouble.
“All right then,” said Walt in response to
Joseph’s statement. “Tell us how many Indians
you counted.” The trapper’s tone was
contemptuous, for he had been piqued at the
way the two brothers threatened him when he
made remarks about Deerfoot and he still held
his grudge.
“How many do you think there were?” Joseph
demanded.
“Don’t you know yourself? I thought you
counted them.”
160“I did. I just wondered if you had any idea
of the number.”
“Well,” said Walt, “I should say that at least
five hundred attacked us originally. Probably
not more than two-thirds of that number chased
us very far. When we passed that ravine I
was speaking of, there were about three hundred
or three hundred and fifty.”
Joseph laughed outright at this. “What’s
the joke?” demanded Walt hotly.
“Do you want to know just how many there
were?”
“Of course we do.”
“Well,” said Joseph, “there were exactly
twenty-five.”
A howl of derision not only from Walt but
from the whole company greeted this remark.
The men looked at Joseph contemptuously.
“Your night out must have affected your
head,” said Walt sneeringly.
“Nothing of the kind,” exclaimed Joseph
warmly, and hot-headed Robert drew a bit
closer to his brother in case there should be
trouble. “I counted twenty-five and that’s all
there were. I don’t believe there were over
fifty opposed to us at any time.”
161“Poor boy! Poor boy,” moaned Walt pityingly.
“He’s either out of his head or he never
learned how to count.”
“Look here,” cried Joseph, thoroughly
aroused. “I know what I’m talking about and
I’m telling the truth, and that’s more than you
are. I saw you pass me and if ever a man was
scared, you were. Your face was as white as
chalk and you were running like a scared rabbit.
And when you say you killed two Indians,
you lie.”
Walt sprang to his feet, his face livid. He
struggled to reach Joseph, but was restrained
by his companions. For some moments the excitement
was intense and it was a puzzle as to
how the difficulty would be settled.
“Look here,” exclaimed one of the men.
“One of these men is a liar, that’s sure. Which
one it is I can’t say, though I’m inclined to think
it is this boy here who says he counted only
twenty-five Indians. Suppose we make him
prove his statement.”
“Can you do it?” whispered Robert in his
brother’s ear.
“No, of course not,” said Joseph. “I have
nothing but my word.”
162“We’ll fight the whole gang, then,” exclaimed
Robert.
“I wouldn’t believe that boy on oath now,”
cried Walt, still trying to wrench himself free
from those who were holding him. “Next thing
he’ll be trying to tell us that he captured The
Swallow from White Owl and brought him back
to camp.”
“That’s just exactly what I did do,” exclaimed
Joseph.
CHAPTER XV AN INVITATION
163
A roar went up from the assemblage at this
remark of Joseph. The men laughed and
whistled and hooted until the din was almost
deafening. Through it all Joseph stood quietly,
but with white face and clenched hands. Robert
was for challenging everyone present to
fight at once and it was with difficulty that he
was restrained by his cooler headed brother.
Finally the noise somewhat subsided. The
men ceased their jeering and turned to Joseph
once more. Walt appointed himself spokesman.
“So you captured The Swallow, did you?” he
said sneeringly.
“That’s what I told you,” replied Joseph
quietly.
“Would you mind letting us look at him?”
164asked Walt with pretended politeness. At the
same time he winked at the others in the crowd.
“Certainly you may see him,” agreed Joseph.
“Suppose I do prove to you that I captured The
Swallow. Will you believe my other story
then?”
“We’ll believe anything,” laughed Walt, good-natured
once more at the prospect of making
sport of Joseph. Certainly he had thought that
the boy was idly boasting about the horse or
he never would have undertaken the risk he
now was incurring.
“Come along, then,” exclaimed Joseph, and
with Robert and Deerfoot walking beside him,
he started toward the place where the ponies
were tethered. Walt became a bit uneasy now
as he saw how ready Joseph was to carry out
his suggestion. Perhaps he had captured The
Swallow after all, and if so Walt fully understood
that he would find himself in a very embarrassing
position.
Robert and Joseph conversed eagerly as they
went along. “I knew that when we started on
the thirteenth of the month bad luck would follow
us,” exclaimed Robert. “Just see what has
happened! We were defeated and disgraced
165by a handful of Indians, and then you get mixed
up in a quarrel and are called a liar and I don’t
know what else. I felt sure we ought not to
have started on that day.”
“Don’t be silly, Bob,” laughed Joseph. “We
have had some hard luck, I’ll admit, but we’ve
had some good luck, too. At least I have. Just
think of my capturing the most famous horse
in this part of the country and now owning him
all for myself.”
“How can you be sure it is The Swallow?”
demanded Robert.
“I hope so,” said Joseph fervently. “I’m in
for it if there has been any mistake.”
They had now come within a short distance
of the spot where the horses had been
fastened. Joseph at once turned to face the
crowd following him. Many more had collected
by this time so that more than a hundred men
were gathered together to see the result of the
argument. Most of them favored Walt, if only
for the reason that they had fled as eagerly as
166he and they had no desire to be publicly acclaimed
as cowards.
“Wait here a moment,” exclaimed Joseph.
“I’ll go get The Swallow, and ride him out here
for you to see.”
“We can’t wait more than two days,” called
Walt as Joseph made off. The crowd laughed
at this remark, for Walt was considered a great
wit.
“You didn’t wait very long for Black Hawk
to arrive the other day, either, did you, Walt?”
shouted Robert, incensed at the treatment to
which his brother was being subjected. The
crowd also laughed at this and Walt’s face once
more flushed with rage.
“Did you wait yourself?” he cried angrily.
“Not I,” replied Robert cheerily. “I came
home just as fast as you did. The only difference
is I admit it and you don’t.”
The crowd enjoyed this conversation tremendously
and was hoping for more of it, but
just at this moment Joseph appeared. As the
spotted pony trotted into view from behind a
clump of trees a murmur of admiration ran
through the gathering. “That’s him, all right!”
exclaimed a raw-boned pioneer standing next
167to Robert. Nods of affirmation were seen on
all sides and exclamations of envy were heard
as well.
Robert looked for Walt to see what he had
to say now, but he looked in vain. Walt had
disappeared. He had recognized The Swallow
instantly, for he had often seen the famous pony
and knew him well. Realizing that he was
beaten he slipped quietly away in the crowd and
hastened to his tent to be alone and unseen.
“Where’s Walt?” cried Joseph, looking in
vain for the trapper.
“He had an engagement, I guess,” laughed
one of the men, after a vain search had been
made for the missing man. “Maybe we can
find him though,” suggested one of the others.
“Let him go,” exclaimed Joseph. “All I want
to know is whether this pony is The Swallow
or not.”
“He certainly is,” cried the whole assemblage
with one accord. They gathered about Joseph
and his new mount, curiously inspecting this
horse that had made itself so famous on the
prairies. Everyone now was on Joseph’s side
and every man vied with one another in saying
pleasant things. Even Robert was pacified and
168he took great pride in the sudden fame which
his brother had acquired.
“What’ll you sell him for?” was the question
frequently put to Joseph; but in answer, the
young pioneer every time shook his head and
merely smiled. “Money couldn’t buy this
horse from me,” he exclaimed.
Supper time soon came and the gathering
then scattered. The two brothers and Deerfoot
were left to themselves, and the Indian was
soon busily engaged in preparing the evening
meal. When this was over, the three volunteers
settled themselves around their fire and discussed
all that had happened to them recently.
They also talked of what might be in store for
them in the approaching days, and wondered
what their fortunes would be.
“What do you suppose our next move will
be?” inquired Joseph.
“I heard this afternoon that we were to join
General Whiteside’s men in a few days,” replied
Robert. “He went out to the battlefield
yesterday, you know, and is to push on after
Black Hawk.”
“What is General Atkinson to do?”
“He is the one that is going to join General
169Whiteside. I supposed, of course, we would go
with him.”
“We stay here,” said Deerfoot.
“What for? How do you know?” queried
Robert.
“Stillman’s men stay here, guard supplies.”
“How did you find that out?” asked Joseph
curiously.
“Me know, that’s all,” replied the Indian, and
both boys were aware that further questioning
was useless. They also were convinced, too,
that Deerfoot was probably right. Seldom it
was that he made any statement of which he
was not absolutely sure.
“They’ll leave us here because we disgraced
ourselves, I suppose,” exclaimed Robert bitterly.
“I don’t blame them either, but I tell you
it makes me mad. I wish I could get just one
more chance.”
“Don’t worry, Bob,” urged Joseph. “You’ll
probably get another chance, all right. We’ll
all have to make up for the way we acted.”
“Where do you think Black Hawk is now,
Deerfoot?” exclaimed Robert impulsively. He
half rose to his feet as though he intended to
start in pursuit of his enemy that very moment.
170“Sit down, Bob,” laughed his brother.
“You’re not thinking of starting after him now,
are you?”
“Just as soon as I can,” said Robert eagerly.
“Where is Black Hawk now?”
“He go north,” replied Deerfoot. “Four lakes
probably.”
“Is that far from here?”
“Very far,” said the Indian. “Much swamps,
too.”
“That’s probably just what will happen, all
right,” agreed Joseph. “Black Hawk will go
up into the swamps and hide there and then
we’ll have some fun driving him out again.”
“Maybe he starve,” suggested Deerfoot.
“Hasn’t he any supplies?” asked Joseph.
“No think so. He not able to raise corn last
year. He no get any now.”
“That’s very true,” said Joseph. “Perhaps
General Atkinson intends to starve him out.”
“That’s not my way, though,” exclaimed Robert.
“I’m for going right into the swamps or
any other place where he may lead us. Finish
it up and get it over with as soon as we can, is
my idea.”
“I don’t know,” argued the more cautious Joseph.
171“Starving him out may take longer, but
it is just as good a way in the end and we won’t
lose half as many men.”
“Still,” laughed Robert, “I don’t suppose
any of the officers are going to ask us for our
opinion in the matter, so there isn’t much use
in our talking about it.”
“You’re right, Bob,” agreed Joseph. “Who
is this coming?” he exclaimed a moment later.
Some man was making his way through the
darkness toward their fire. It was impossible
to see who it was and the prowler came all the
way up to the fire without being recognized. It
was then discovered that the visitor was Walt.
“I’ve come to apologize to you, Joseph,” he
said, after he had made himself known. “I
acted badly this afternoon and I know it. I’m
sorry and I want you to shake hands with me
and forgive me if you can. Will you do it?”
“Of course I will,” exclaimed Joseph at the
same time putting forth his hand.
“I did lie,” continued Walt. “I acted like a
coward, too, and you showed me up for what I
was. I was mad at you for doing it at the time,
but I got to thinking it over and decided that I
deserved it all. From now on I’m going to try
172to make up for it, and I want your friendship
and that of your brother, and Deerfoot’s, too.
Do you think I stand any chance of getting it?”
“You certainly do,” said Robert heartily.
This red-headed boy had a quick temper but
he had also a correspondingly warm heart. He
saw that Walt meant what he had said, and that
was all that Robert needed. He shook hands
warmly with the trapper. Deerfoot in silence
also offered his hand.
“Now,” said Walt. “I’m going to ask another
favor of you three. I have been ordered
to carry some dispatches for General Atkinson.
He told me to select my own party and I want
you three as members of it. Will you go?”
“Will we go!” exclaimed Robert. “Of course
we’ll go and the sooner the better. When do we
start, Walt?”
“The first thing in the morning. Just sit
down a minute and I’ll tell you about it.”
CHAPTER XVI A SCOUTING PARTY
173
“I can’t tell you much, for I don’t know much
about it, myself,” Walt explained. “All the
information I have are my orders. I am to
carry some dispatches from General Atkinson
to Fort Armstrong.”
“That’s all that is necessary for us to know,”
cried Robert enthusiastically. “How many are
there to be in our party?”
“Ten. We four and six others.”
“We’d better get ready then, I guess,” suggested
Joseph, who was always of a practical
turn of mind. “How about food? Who is to
look out for that?”
“I am,” replied Walt. “The rest of you
needn’t worry about a single thing. Everything
is ready and all you will have to do is to
go along.”
174“That’s fine!” exclaimed Robert. “Just the
kind of an expedition I like. Not a blessed
thing to worry about.”
“Except Indians,” Joseph cautioned him.
“Huh! Indians!” snorted Robert. “We
aren’t afraid of Indians! Are we, Deerfoot?”
and he slapped that surprised brave heartily on
the back.
“No afraid,” replied Deerfoot seriously, looking
in astonishment at his young friend. He
never had become used to these outbursts of
hilarity on Robert’s part and he did not know
just what to make of them.
“You’re glad you’re going, too, aren’t you?”
Robert insisted.
“Yes, me glad,” answered Deerfoot, without
changing the expression of his face or the tone
of his voice.
“You’re hopeless, Deerfoot,” exclaimed Robert
laughing. “You show about as much enthusiasm
as a piece of rock.”
“He doesn’t believe in wasting his strength
and breath perhaps,” suggested Joseph.
“When the time comes he’ll be in the thick of
things, though, you may be sure of that.”
“I know it,” said Robert. “When he does a
175thing or says a thing he means it. That’s more
than I can say sometimes.”
“We won’t worry about you, I guess, Bob,”
laughed Walt. “I know who can be depended
upon. That’s the reason I asked you to go with
us.”
“And now I’m going to leave you,” he added.
“Don’t forget tomorrow. We’ll meet at the
swimming hole at daybreak. Good night.”
“Good night,” replied Joseph, Robert and
Deerfoot together, and a moment later Walt
disappeared in the darkness.
“Where is Fort Armstrong?” demanded Robert,
as they were preparing to turn in for the
night.
“Why, Bob,” chided his brother. “Don’t you
know where that is?”
“Of course I do,” replied Robert. “That’s
just the reason I asked you.”
“Well, it’s right where the Rock River
empties into the Mississippi,” Joseph explained,
paying no attention to his brother’s attempt at
sarcasm. “That is the place where General
Atkinson and General Whiteside came from.
They collected their troops there before they
started up the Rock River.”
176“Then we’re going back the way they came?”
“Exactly.”
“But I’m afraid we’ll miss something,” protested
Robert.
“Don’t you want to go? A few minutes ago
you said you did.”
“I still do,” exclaimed Robert quickly. “For
a moment it seemed to me that we would be
getting out of touch with things if we went back
there, but I guess there’s likely to be something
going on, no matter where we are.”
“Surely, there is,” Joseph agreed. “I think
that Black Hawk’s victory will make it very unsafe
for the settlers around here, too.”
“That’s so. Probably all the Indians will
start out on the warpath now.”
“Yes, and they’ll be murdering all the settlers
in the country,” exclaimed Joseph. “Many
more families will get the same treatment ours
did, I’m afraid.”
“Well, that’s what you and I are here to stop,
you know,” said Robert.
“Perhaps if we stop talking and get some
sleep we’ll be in better shape to do it, too,” Joseph
suggested. “Look at Deerfoot. He’s
asleep already.”
177The two brothers also were soon fast asleep
and knew nothing more until they felt their Indian
friend shaking them and telling them to
wake up. They were on their feet almost instantly
and were soon ready to depart. The
ponies were fed and watered, and in a short
time they were all on their way to the meeting
place on the river bank. It was scarcely light
as yet and the first rays of the sun were just
appearing when the young soldiers reached
their destination.
Walt was already on hand, as also were two
of the other members of the party. In a few
moments the three remaining scouts appeared
and a start was made at once.
The boys were very proud to be members of
this expedition. A responsibility had been
placed upon their shoulders and every man likes
to feel that he is thought capable of sharing such
a trust. Joseph was doubly proud. He sat
astride The Swallow and felt himself the center
of all eyes. The more he rode the pony the
better he liked him, too. As Walt said, “The
Swallow was everything that a horse should be.”
They struck off across the prairie and following
the course of the river as closely as
178practicable they made their way steadily forward.
Both Joseph and Robert were delighted
to see among their number John Mason, the
man who had first called Robert “Red,” and
had entertained them one night with a story of
a hunting experience his father had had. The
two brothers had formed a strong liking for
this man. He was a splendid type of pioneer
and commanded the respect of all who came in
contact with him.
“Bad times ahead of us, boys,” he exclaimed,
bringing his horse alongside Robert’s and addressing
the two brothers.
“What’s the matter now?” Robert demanded.
“Black Hawk has turned his war parties
loose on the settlements.”
“He did that long ago,” said Joseph. “Bob
and I know that from bitter experience.”
“I know you do,” exclaimed Mason. “I guess
you have caught it as hard as anyone, but it’s
going to be worse than ever now. Since Black
Hawk chased us away so easily, I guess he
has become conceited and thinks that nothing
can hold him back.”
“That’s what we said would happen,” Joseph
remarked.
179“Well, it’s true,” continued Mason. “Several
reports have come in already of people being
murdered.”
“Near here?” inquired Robert.
“Yes, quite near. Yesterday morning they
killed a man just north of here. He was a minister
and was on his way to Chicago. It seems
he was in the habit of traveling around through
the settlements in the course of his work. He
was a queer looking old fellow, with a beard
that was nearly a yard long. I remember him
well, for he used to come around my part of
the country as well as here. Two nights ago
he stopped over night with a family who warned
him that suspicious Indians were in the neighborhood.
They all left the house and hurried
off to safe places, but he stayed on. He said
he wasn’t afraid and that he didn’t think the
Indians would harm him anyway. So he
stayed. One of the sons returned home the
next morning to get something that had been
forgotten, and found the poor old fellow scalped
and his head almost severed from his body.
Isn’t that horrible?”
“I should say it is,” agreed Joseph, shuddering
at the thought.
180“Where did you hear about it?” asked Robert.
“The son who returned home told me. He
hurried right from there to Dixon’s and wants
to enlist. He says this business must stop.”
“He is right about that!” Joseph agreed
heartily. “Why, no one will be safe any more
unless something is done. All the other tribes
may be lured in, too, if they see the success
Black Hawk is having.”
“Very true,” said Mason. “I believe that already
some of the Winnebagos and Pottowattomies
have joined him.”
“Is that so?” exclaimed Robert. “I wonder
if Deerfoot knows that some of his people are
with Black Hawk now?”
“Of course he knows,” said Joseph. “He
seems to know everything almost before it happens.
He is uncanny at times.”
“Do you suppose it will make any difference
to him?”
“Not a bit. Why, he’d choose you and me in
preference to his own family, I think. He likes
us better than anyone else in the world.”
“He certainly is a good friend of yours, isn’t
he?” remarked Mason. “At any rate I believe
181only a small band of his people are with Black
Hawk. Some of the young bloods who like
fighting, that’s all.”
“Indians love to fight, don’t they?” said Robert.
“I wonder why it is.”
“Simply because it is born in them, I guess,”
laughed Mason. “All their lives they fight.
If not with the whites, then with some other
tribe.”
“I feel sorry for them,” Joseph remarked.
“They certainly have had a hard time ever since
the white people came into this country. Every
year they are pushed farther and farther west.
They see their homes being taken from them
and I don’t blame them if they don’t like it.”
“I suppose you felt sorry for them when they
were murdering our family and burning our
home,” exclaimed Robert hotly.
“That’s different,” agreed Joseph. “At the
same time I don’t suppose they know any better
and that is their way of making war.”
“Of course it doesn’t,” Joseph admitted.
“I’m for getting even with them just as much
as you are. Don’t worry about that. And I
182agree with you that the quicker we let them
know that we won’t stand for this sort of business
the better it will be for all concerned.”
“That’s exactly the way I feel,” said Mason.
“Personally I have nothing against the Indians.
There are good ones and there are bad ones,
just as there are good and bad white men. This
country has got to be safe for settlers to live in
though, and I am going to do my best to help
make it that way. As you say we must let the
Indians know that we intend to put a stop to
this wholesale murder and massacre.”
The sun by this time was high in the heavens
and a stop was made to refresh the horses and
to give the men a short breathing spell. They
halted in a clump of trees near the bank of the
river. The men stretched themselves on the
ground and completely relaxed. It was a
peaceful scene and it would have been difficult
for an observer to realize that danger lurked
near at hand. One of the scouts stationed as a
lookout soon testified to this fact, however.
When a half-hour had elapsed the march was
resumed. The route still lay along the bank
of the river, most of it over the open prairie.
Occasionally they crossed a swamp or passed
183through a clump of woods and at such times
extreme caution was exercised. One man was
sent ahead to spy out the land, while the others
followed in single file, prepared for any emergency
that might arise.
Thus far no sign of the enemy had been discovered,
however. At the same time the scouts
did not relax their caution for an instant. They
were too familiar with the ways of the redmen
to think themselves ever secure from an attack.
The day wore on and the shadows grew
longer. Some of the horses began to show
signs of fatigue, but not so The Swallow. He
stepped as lightly as ever and apparently was
as fresh as when he started. Joseph became
more enthusiastic over his new pony every moment.
The other horses were tired, however,
and soon it was decided to stop for the night.
“There’s a large swamp just ahead,” explained
Walt. “I think we ought to get through
that before we pitch camp. On the other side
is a long stretch of prairie and we should be
safe from any surprise out there in the open.”
Walt’s suggestion was approved and soon the
little party came to the swamp. It was particularly
dense and of large extent. To ride
184around it would have consumed much valuable
time. Consequently they plunged into its fastnesses
and urged their horses to make their best
speed and reach the open country again as
quickly as possible.
The party was strung out in a long line, with
John Mason at the head. No one spoke and the
only sound to be heard was the heavy breathing
of the horses and the sucking of their hoofs
as they pulled them out of the soft, wet earth.
Suddenly a rifle shot rang out through the
still air and the band of scouts came to an
abrupt halt.
CHAPTER XVII A PERILOUS UNDERTAKING
185
Every man immediately dismounted. There
was a rush for shelter and in a remarkably
short space of time the whole band had
placed themselves behind trees or clumps of
bushes. Not one had abandoned his pony,
however, for without a mount no man would
stand much chance if it should come to a question
of escape.
The shot had been fired at John Mason, who
was in the lead, but he had escaped unharmed.
Meanwhile, not a sound broke the stillness which
rested over the swamp. Many moments elapsed
and still no significant sound was heard. Joseph
was standing behind a large oak tree,
well screened by a heavy growth of bushes.
He had quickly tied The Swallow to an overhanging
bough and he hoped that no one of
186the Indians would discover the presence of the
pony.
Robert had taken his station in a position
similar to Joseph’s and about ten yards distant
from him. The remainder of the band were
placed at varying intervals over a space of
nearly a hundred and twenty-five yards. Every
man held his rifle ready for immediate use.
Joseph glanced eagerly about him. He could
see his comrades crouching behind their shelters
but no sign of the enemy appeared. It
gave the young pioneer a queer feeling to see
all these men hiding and yet not to know from
what they were trying to conceal themselves.
He looked again at his brother. This was
just the kind of situation to appeal to Robert
and he was greatly enjoying himself. He loved
adventure with a spice of real danger in it, and
consequently was in high spirits. He caught
Joseph’s eye and smiled. Then he waved his
hand at his brother. As he did so there came
the sharp report of a rifle and a bullet clipped
a piece of bark from the tree just above his
head. Robert drew back hurriedly.
Instantly the white men’s rifles spoke, all firing
at the puff of smoke which disclosed the
187position of the Indian sharpshooter. Whether
or not any of the bullets reached their mark
could not be seen, but this was the signal for
a general fusillade. The redmen replied to this
volley with a volley of their own and from that
time on the firing became general on both sides.
Above all the noise arose the frequent war
whoops of the Indians, and both Robert and
Joseph shuddered at the sound. They had
heard it often before and every time it had been
followed by misfortune.
Suddenly another war whoop sounded not
thirty feet from the spot where Joseph was
standing. At the sound he started violently
and his gun almost fell from his shaking fingers.
He turned in alarm to see whence the noise
came, and to his intense relief discovered that
Deerfoot was the cause of his fright. The Pottowattomie
had flung his defiance back at his
foes to show them that not all of his tribe were
on the side of Black Hawk.
So interested was Joseph in watching his red
ally that he nearly forgot that he was in a fight
and that at least fifteen or twenty bloodthirsty
Sacs were intent on taking his life.
At the conclusion of this war cry Deerfoot
188immediately dropped to the ground and began
to worm his way forward on his belly as fast
as he could crawl. With fascinated gaze, Joseph
watched the half-naked redman whose skin
glistened with war paint as he cautiously, but
steadily crawled onward across the swamp.
From behind a tree scarcely fifty yards distant
one of the enemy had been firing. Evidently
this brave was the goal Deerfoot had in
mind. Joseph soon realized this and resolved
to do all in his power to aid. As fast as he
could load his gun he emptied it at the hidden
Indian and did his best to keep his attention
occupied so that Deerfoot might approach unnoticed.
Deerfoot must have realized this,
though, of course, he made no sign. Rifle in
hand he still was crawling through the swamp.
The grass was high, affording him excellent
protection and he took great pains to keep every
possible bush or stump or tree between him and
the object of his quest.
Every little while Joseph lost sight of Deerfoot.
It was difficult to follow the Pottowattomie’s
course as he went along, and so skillfully
did Deerfoot perform his task that only
the occasional waving of a clump of bushes gave
189evidence that anyone was disturbing them.
“That’s a wonderful performance,” thought Joseph,
and he was right.
At length Joseph withdrew his gaze from
Deerfoot’s movements and looked around at the
rest of his comrades. No one seemed to have
been hit as yet, though Joseph could only account
for eight of the ten members of the party.
Robert was as cheerful as ever and presented
a smiling though powder-smeared countenance
to his brother’s gaze.
“Why don’t we charge them, Joe?” he called.
“That would be a foolhardy thing to do,” replied
Joseph. “What chance would we stand?”
“Some of us would survive,” said Robert. “I
wish they’d try it, anyway.”
Joseph made no reply beyond a shake of the
head and once more he turned his attention to
Deerfoot. He was, however, now unable to locate
the Pottowattomie. Having once taken his
eyes from the path he was pursuing Joseph
could not find it again. That Deerfoot must
have approached close to his goal now, he felt
confident, but still no sign of him appeared.
The young pioneer riveted his gaze upon the
tree that sheltered his enemy, hoping for an
190opportunity for a favorable shot. He thought
he saw a feather move behind the broad trunk,
and immediately he fired.
An answering shot came almost instantly.
Joseph could hear the bullet cut through the
branches directly above him, and involuntarily
he drew back farther behind his shelter.
Scarcely had the report of the rifle died away
when an unearthly yell rent the air. Then before
Joseph’s eyes was enacted an awful scene.
He saw Deerfoot suddenly spring to his feet,
appearing as if by magic from the tall grass
at the foot of the tree behind which his enemy
was located. The shining, painted body of the
Pottowattomie appeared like some strange
monster in the half light of the coming night.
His war cry echoed far out over the marsh,
while in one hand he grasped his rifle, and in
the other was his tomahawk. With one bound
he flung himself upon his adversary.
Joseph could see the flash of Deerfoot’s
hatchet as it was raised to strike. He could almost
feel the shock of the two men’s bodies as
they came together and then the struggle passed
out of his range of vision. He hastily reloaded
his gun and turned to Robert.
191“Come on, Bob!” he cried. “We must help
Deerfoot!”
“You can count on me,” replied Robert
quickly, and together the two boys started forward
to the aid of their friend. It was a dangerous
mission on which they were embarking,
but neither boy gave any heed to his own peril.
To help Deerfoot was their only thought and
though they were not sure that their loyal friend
was in need of aid, they were determined to be
on hand in case such a need should arise.
“Keep low, Bob,” warned Joseph.
“I’m as low as I can get now!” exclaimed
Robert. “I’m almost bent double as it is.”
“That’s the way to be. Now hurry as fast as
you can.”
The two brothers darted forward, rifle in
hand. Crouching low and running swiftly they
hastened to Deerfoot’s assistance.
“Come back!” shouted some one of their comrades
in alarm as he saw what the two boys
were attempting. No attention was paid to
this bit of advice, however, and the boys merely
increased their speed. A bullet scudded over
their heads, and then another struck the ground
just in front of them. On they went, however,
192each boy fearful lest he should be too late in
bringing aid to their faithful ally.
Nearer and nearer they approached to the
tree behind which Deerfoot had disappeared.
Thus far they had been untouched but it seemed
almost a miracle. Every moment the rain of
bullets about them increased and to their watching
comrades it seemed as if they must be hit.
Yells of defiance and rage greeted their appearance
and apparently every one of the hostile
party was now directing his fire at the two daring
youths.
Half the distance had been covered by this
time. Only a few seconds had elapsed but to
the two brothers it seemed as if a long time had
passed since they had left their shelter and
started on their perilous adventure. No
thought of retreat had entered either boy’s
mind, however, and even if they had had such
a desire it was too late now to turn back.
Just ahead of them was a large fallen oak
and toward this they made their way. Robert’s
sleeve was cut by a bullet and both boys had
felt many of the leaden balls whiz by close to
their ears. Still they kept on and soon came
to the prostrate tree. Vines and creepers covered
193the trunk, providing an excellent screen,
and behind this shelter the young volunteers
stopped for a momentary breathing spell and a
chance to get their bearings.
“Whew, Bob, this is ticklish business!” panted
Joseph, and he and his brother instantly sank
to the ground.
“I know it, Joe,” replied Robert. “That
doesn’t make any difference, though. It has to
be done.”
“Of course it has,” cried Joseph. “We are
wasting valuable time here, too!” He once
more sprang to his feet and after a hasty look
about him started on his way again. Robert
followed close behind. “Only a few yards
more,” he called encouragingly. “We’ll make
it all right, Joe.”
Just at this moment when the two young
pioneers appeared around the end of their shelter,
they were once more exposed to full view.
A yell greeted them, followed by a hail of lead.
Bullets sang all about them and suddenly Joseph
uttered a groan and plunged forward. He
fell headlong to the ground and rolled over upon
his back.
Robert was at his side in an instant. “Where
194are you hit, Joe? Is it bad?” he cried. Joseph’s
red-headed and impulsive younger
brother apparently entirely forgot that he, too,
was exposed to the fire of all the Indian party.
Not so, Joseph, however. Even at this time his
first thought was for his brother, and he begged
him to return.
“Go back, Bob,” he pleaded. “You can’t help
me any now.”
“Tell me where you’re hit,” demanded Robert.
“Right here,” cried Joseph, holding on to his
left leg with both hands. “It’s just above the
knee and I can’t walk.”
“I’ll help you,” offered Robert eagerly.
“Lean on me and we can get back.”
Joseph made an effort to get up, but it was
unavailing. His leg gave out under the weight
and he rolled back to his former position.
Blood showed in a dark red spot above his knee.
“I can’t do it, Bob,” he moaned. “There’s no
use in your being hit, too, though. Please leave
me. Save yourself, anyway.”
Robert suddenly sprang to his feet. “All
right, I will leave you,” he cried, and at full
speed he ran swiftly toward the tree behind
which Deerfoot and his enemy were concealed.
CHAPTER XVIII BETWEEN THE LINES
195
As Robert ran forward he caught a fleeting
glimpse of Deerfoot. He saw his Indian
friend locked in a death struggle with his foe.
Over and over upon the ground the two men
rolled, sometimes one on top and sometimes the
other. Neither had been able thus far to deal
any decisive blow, and each one was doing his
utmost to use his knife or tomahawk.
The sight spurred Robert forward, and a
feeling of intense rage welled up into his heart.
His family had been murdered and his home
destroyed. His brother had been shot and now
the last person to whom he could turn on earth
was struggling for his life with one of these
same enemies of his. All that had befallen him
swept through Robert’s mind in a flash. Red
spots danced before his eyes and he was more
196angry than he had ever been before in his life.
He was afraid to shoot, however, for fear
he might hit Deerfoot. The two men were so
entwined in each other’s embrace that it was
sometimes hard to distinguish one from the
other. Neither one was aware of Robert’s
presence. It was not so with the other Indians,
however. A hot fire was directed at the daring
young pioneer and only the deadly shooting of
his comrades saved him from a personal attack.
Robert dodged behind the tree for protection
while he cautiously peered out. He was waiting
his chance to step in and deal the blow that
would return Deerfoot victor in the struggle.
The two men were straining every nerve and
every muscle in their effort to gain the mastery.
The veins stood out upon their foreheads, while
great beads of perspiration streamed from
every pore. Their breath came in gasps and it
seemed impossible that human strength could
endure such a test much longer. Evidently the
strugglers must soon weaken, and such proved
to be the case.
The one that weakened first, however, was
Deerfoot. His opponent had grasped him by
197the throat and shut off his breath. With his
breath gone Deerfoot’s strength ebbed quickly.
Little by little his resistance ceased until by
a supreme effort his opponent gained the upper
hand and in a short time he sat upon Deerfoot’s
chest, his hands still clutching the Pottowattomie’s
windpipe. Deerfoot’s conqueror
leered exultantly as he reached for his knife
to complete his work.
This move, however, was Robert’s cue to act
and he responded at once. Grasping his rifle
by the barrel with both hands the young volunteer
stepped out from behind the tree. He
moved noiselessly and so intent was his foe upon
what he was doing that Robert’s actions escaped
unnoticed. He raised his gun and swinging it
twice around brought it squarely down upon
the shaved head of his enemy.
That was all. The Sac, without even so
much as a groan, rolled over and lay still upon
the ground. His knife slipped from his hand
and not a muscle in his body quivered. He was
dead.
“Come, Deerfoot!” cried Robert. “Come
quickly!”
He grasped his friend by his hand and lifted
198him to his feet. For a moment Deerfoot
seemed dazed and he passed his hand over his
throat.
“Come on! Come on!” urged Robert. “Joe
is lying out here wounded, and we must look
after him.”
“Me come,” replied Deerfoot huskily. He
turned and looked at his fallen opponent, but
Robert grasped his arm. He knew what was
passing in his red ally’s mind and he forestalled
the impulse.
“No scalping now,” he exclaimed. “We’ll be
killed if we stay here any longer. Please come,
Deerfoot.”
The bullets still sang about their heads. One
struck Robert’s gun, scarring the stock and
tearing it almost from his grasp. Evidently
there was no time to lose. He caught hold of
Deerfoot’s arm and half dragging him hurried
his friend from the perilous place.
As they emerged from the shelter of the trees
a shout of welcome from their comrades and a
yell of rage from their enemies at the same time
greeted them. The sound, however, scarcely
made any impression upon the two daring
men. So intent were they upon the task at
199hand that nothing else seemed of any consequence
to them.
“Bend low and follow me, Deerfoot,” cried
Robert, loosing his hold on the Pottowattomie’s
arm. He started quickly toward the spot where
Joseph was lying and Deerfoot came close behind
him. It was a new experience for Robert
to be giving orders to his redskinned friend,
but the young frontiersman enjoyed it none the
less on that account. Deerfoot was rapidly regaining
his strength and composure, however,
and Robert’s supremacy threatened to be shortlived.
Through the storm of leaden death they ran.
A few seconds, which seemed like hours to the
young pioneer-soldier, elapsed, and they arrived
at the place where Joseph was lying.
“Take his head. I’ll take his feet,” cried
Robert. Joseph made no objection and merely
groaned as he was lifted from the ground and
borne rapidly in the direction of his own forces
and of safety.
“Stop here,” ordered Robert sharply, as they
came to the fallen log behind which he and his
brother had taken refuge, a few moments before.
They came to an abrupt halt and as tenderly
200as possible placed Joseph upon the
ground.
“How do you feel, Joe?” asked Robert, bending
anxiously over his brother.
“Pretty weak,” replied Joseph in a husky
voice. His face was white and drawn with
pain, but his jaw was set and all his will power
was being exerted.
“He bleed much,” exclaimed Deerfoot. “Me
fix him.” He quickly tore a strip from his
hunting shirt and fastened it around Joseph’s
leg, just above the wound. Exerting all his
strength he then drew the bandage as tightly
as he was able so that the blood would be held
back and as little as possible should escape.
Joseph seemed to be suffering more pain as
time went on. The first shock of the bullet had
stunned him so that his senses mostly were
dulled to any feeling of physical suffering.
Not so now, however, for try as he might he
could not help giving evidence that he was in
agony.
“That’s better, Deerfoot,” Robert remarked.
“Do you think he is wounded badly?”
“No,” replied Deerfoot shortly. “He bleed
bad but not serious.” He had slit Joseph’s
201trousers up the side so that the wound was exposed
to view. The bullet had passed through
the fleshy part of the leg, tearing an ugly hole,
but it was easy to be seen that the trouble was
not likely to be lasting.
“He’s bled enough at any rate,” exclaimed
Robert grimly. “You look almost as though
you had one red trouser leg, Joe. Is that the
new style?”
“I don’t know, Bob. I haven’t looked at it,”
Joseph answered weakly. Much of his strength
had ebbed away with his blood, though the flow
had been largely checked by Deerfoot’s treatment.
The Indian was now engaged in bandaging
the wound itself. His idea was to fix his
young friend temporarily so that he would be
safe until he could receive much better treatment.
“Look at yourself, Joe,” urged Robert.
“You’re certainly a sight.”
With an effort Joseph raised himself upon
one elbow and glanced at his blood-stained leg.
One look was enough, however, for with a quick
intake of his breath Joseph suddenly fainted
away.
“Now I’ve done it,” exclaimed Robert. “I
202ought to have known better than to say a thing
like that.”
“He all right,” said Deerfoot stoically.
“But he has fainted,” Robert protested.
“How can we bring him to?”
“No try,” said Deerfoot. “Let him stay
fainted.”
“Won’t it hurt him any?”
“No,” said Deerfoot, and he had apparently
dismissed the subject from his mind, for he
turned his back on the two brothers and
glanced out over the battlefield.
As long as Black Hawk’s band remained in
their present position the three volunteers were
safe where they were. They were crouched
upon the ground behind the log which provided
ample protection. Behind them were their own
men, while they were well screened from the
enemy.
“How long are we going to stay here?” demanded
Robert at length.
Deerfoot made no answer, and to all outward
appearances he did not even hear the question.
“How long are we going to stay here?” Robert
repeated.
“You want to leave?” asked Deerfoot mildly.
203“Well,” said Robert, “it’s growing dark and
it doesn’t seem to me we ought to stay here
much longer. Some one of Black Hawk’s
braves will sneak around in back of us and we’ll
be cut off if we are not careful.”
“That right,” Deerfoot agreed, and he
glanced at Joseph as he spoke. As he did so,
the wounded young pioneer opened his eyes and
sighed heavily.
“We’re going to carry you the rest of the
way now, Joe,” Robert announced cheerily.
“We’ll start any time you say.”
“I’m ready,” replied Joseph, at the same time
trying to force a smile.
“All right then, Deerfoot, let’s go,” said Robert.
“We’ll carry him just as we did before.
You don’t mind if the trip is rough, do you,
Joe? We’ve got to travel fast, you know.”
“The faster the better,” said Joseph.
Deerfoot reconnoitered the nearby ground,
but saw nothing to alarm him. Everything was
quiet, even the guns having ceased momentarily.
“We go now,” announced Deerfoot, and he
and Robert bent down to pick up their wounded
young companion. They were just lifting him
204from the ground when a warning shout caused
them to set him down quickly once more.
“What was that?” cried Robert. He immediately
seized his rifle and held it ready for instant
use. Deerfoot, too, was instantly alert.
“Red!” The call was repeated. It was John
Mason’s voice and Robert recognized it at once.
The little band of scouts were not more than
thirty or forty yards distant so that conversation
could easily be carried on.
“What is it?” called Robert.
“Come back as quickly as you can!” shouted
Mason. “I think there are two Indians stealing
up on you through the long grass.”
“All right,” replied Robert.
“We’d better hurry, Deerfoot,” he exclaimed.
“They say some Indians are creeping up on us
here. We can’t waste any more time.”
“We wasted some listening to Mason,” Joseph
remarked.
“I know it,” cried Robert impatiently.
“Wouldn’t you think he could see that we were
starting when he yelled at us? We’ll have to
hurry more than ever now. Come on, Deerfoot,”
he urged, and once more he bent down
and grasped Joseph by his ankles.
205“What’s the matter, Deerfoot?” he exclaimed
angrily as the Pottowattomie made no move to
help him.
Just at that moment, however, Deerfoot
snatched his tomahawk from his belt and hurled
it with all his force.
CHAPTER XIX A LIVELY SKIRMISH
206
Robert wheeled instantly to discover the
cause of Deerfoot’s action. He was not a
second too soon, for, as he turned, a tomahawk
whizzed past his head, missing him only by a
few inches. His sudden movement had saved
his life.
As if springing from the ground itself, an
Indian bore down upon him. The redskin was
scarcely ten feet distant when the startled boy
first caught sight of him. On he came with
knife upraised, shouting his war whoop. Fury
was depicted in every line of the Indian’s countenance.
Robert had his rifle in his hand, but,
he had no time to take aim, so swiftly did his
enemy charge. Instinctively, however, the
young volunteer started to raise the gun to his
shoulder. He realized at once that he would
207not have time to take aim, and accordingly before
the barrel was above the level of his hips
he fired.
Even at so short a distance the bullet went
wild. The report of the gun, the flash and the
smoke checked the Indian momentarily, however,
and this check undoubtedly saved Robert’s
life. Following the discharge of the gun, almost
instantly Deerfoot hurled himself through
the air upon the body of the onrushing Sac.
The two men came together with a thud and
a moment later they were struggling on the
ground.
Robert was so stunned by the unexpected turn
of events that he merely stood and looked at
the fight going on at his feet. Joseph, on the
other hand, had not lost his wits for even an
instant.
“Jump in there and help Deerfoot, Bob!” he
cried. “What are you standing around doing
nothing for?”
To Robert it had seemed as if this contest
was to be just like the one he had decided in
Deerfoot’s favor only a few moments before.
It was hard for him to distinguish one Indian
from the other, but he stood over the two, ready
208to follow Joseph’s instructions the moment an
opportunity should offer.
Deerfoot’s opponent had a long knife in his
hand. He struggled desperately to get a chance
to use it, while Deerfoot fought with all his
strength to prevent this move. He had seized
his adversary by the wrist and clung desperately
to the hand which was holding the deadly
knife.
“Knock that knife out of his hand!” called
Joseph excitedly. He partly raised himself
from the ground and even tried to rise to his
feet. This was out of the question, however,
and he sank back with a groan.
“Rap him on the knuckles! What’s the matter
with you, Bob?” he cried. “Why don’t you
do something?”
As the hand which held the knife swung in
his direction Robert did shake off his lethargy
and was able to do something. He struck the
hostile redman with all his force directly across
the wrist. He used a stone which he had picked
up for the purpose. The blow was a severe one
and it accomplished its object. The fingers relaxed
their grip on the handle and the knife
slipped to the ground.
209“Grab it, quick!” directed Joseph. “Don’t let
him have it again!”
Robert pounced upon the weapon and having
availed himself of it turned to use it on his
enemy. It was not necessary, however. The
blow which Robert had dealt had broken the
Indian’s wrist and rendered his hand useless.
Deerfoot found no difficulty in dealing with an
opponent who now had the use of only one
arm.
He quickly disposed of his adversary and
both Robert and Joseph turned their backs with
a shudder as Deerfoot tore the scalp from his
victim’s head. There was no use in arguing
with him about the act now, however.
“Let’s hurry!” exclaimed Robert, when Deerfoot
had completed his gruesome task.
“No go yet,” replied Deerfoot. He quickly
stepped over the log which had sheltered them
all so well, and parting the bushes disclosed to
view another Indian who lay lifeless on the
ground. Deerfoot immediately set to work to
tear his bloody trophy from the head of this
brave also.
“Where did that Indian come from?” exclaimed
Robert in surprise.
210“Didn’t you see Deerfoot throw his tomahawk?”
asked Joseph.
“Yes, but I didn’t know it was at that man.”
“Certainly it was,” said Joseph. “His aim
was evidently good, too.”
“I should say so. Just suppose it hadn’t been
though. I hate to think of what might have
happened to us if he had missed.” Robert
shivered at the mere thought of such a thing.
At this moment Deerfoot reappeared, his
work completed. “We go now,” he exclaimed
quickly.
“It’s about time,” said Robert as he bent over
to pick up his brother. Once more he grasped
him by the ankles while Deerfoot held him under
his arms. Thus burdened, they turned and
started back to the shelter of the trees.
“Come along,” shouted John Mason cheerily.
“We’ll keep watch that no one else gets close
to you. Come as fast as you can and keep low.”
“I’m low enough,” exclaimed Joseph, as his
back bumped upon a mound of earth.
“Sorry, Joe, I didn’t mean to scrape you,”
Robert apologized.
“Don’t worry about me,” said Joseph. “You
can bump me all you want if you will only get
211me back quickly. My wound feels better now
since Deerfoot bandaged it.”
Stumbling and tripping often, they hurried
on their way. Shouts and words of encouragement
were flung at them from their comrades
and served as a spur to the three friends. Soon
they reached their original positions where a
warm welcome was waiting for them.
“Great work!” cried Walt, risking his life to
run forward and shake hands with all three of
the volunteers. “You all did splendidly.”
“Indeed you did!” echoed John Mason. “We
are very proud of you.”
“Who can fix Joe’s leg?” demanded Robert.
He had no interest in the words of praise being
heaped upon them. At least, his brother’s welfare
was the first thought that came into his
mind.
“Is he hurt badly?” exclaimed Walt anxiously.
“I think not,” replied Robert. “It seems like
a flesh wound, but it ought to be attended to.”
“Of course it had,” said John Mason. “Some
one help me carry him back here a little way
and I’ll soon fix him up.”
Once more Joseph was lifted from the ground
and borne farther back from the firing line.
212John Mason set to work at once and it was easy
to see from the way he conducted himself that
he was an expert in the art of looking after
wounds. In a very few moments he had doctored
Joseph so successfully that he was able
to bear some weight upon his injured limb.
With two men supporting him he was even able
to hobble along for a few steps.
“Do you think you can ride your horse?”
asked John Mason anxiously.
“I know I can,” replied Joseph.
“That’s good news. If we have to run for it
you’ll certainly need The Swallow to help you
out.”
“I can shoot a gun, too,” exclaimed Joseph.
“Maybe you can,” admitted Mason. “At the
same time you’re not going to try it just now.”
“Let me have just one shot,” he pleaded.
“What’s the use, Joe?” demanded Robert.
“It will be dark in half an hour and the fight
will be over. We don’t need you. The Indians
are beaten. Why, we killed three ourselves and
they won’t risk any more men.”
“Don’t be too sure about that,” cautioned
Mason. “It’s true that night is coming on and
I don’t believe they’d try to attack us in the
213dark, but I have a feeling that they may make
one last try before night really falls.”
The firing had slackened in the last few moments
and there seemed to be a decided lull in
the hostilities. This state of affairs was not of
long duration, however, for suddenly the war
whoop sounded again and the firing recommenced.
John Mason was right. The Indians
were making a last desperate attempt to overcome
their foes.
“You stay here, Joe,” exclaimed Robert.
“Here, sit behind this tree and we will come
after you if anything happens.”
“I don’t worry about that,” said Joseph.
“Please don’t let anything happen, though.”
“Not if we can help it,” exclaimed Mason.
“Come on, Bob,” he urged. “They need us out
there in front I guess.”
Walt and Deerfoot already had taken their
places on the firing line again and Robert and
Mason soon joined them. The Indians were
closer now and were evidently striving desperately
to strike a telling blow at the white men.
The approaching darkness was a great aid
to the Indians, who crept determinedly nearer
and nearer to the band of scouts. It was hard
214to discover them in the dusk and every moment
it seemed as if the flash of a hostile rifle came
from a new place. The flash came and then
when the scouts’ fire was directed at the spot
the Indian apparently had moved. The next
shot would come from a spot ten or fifteen feet
to the left or right; it was impossible to tell
which beforehand.
“They’ll outflank us,” exclaimed John Mason
anxiously. “If they ever get around to our
rear we won’t stand any chance at all.”
Already three of the scouts had fallen. Two
of them were dead and the other, a man named
William Reach, was mortally wounded. What
the casualties on the Indian side were it was
impossible to tell. At any rate the advance
had not been checked. Using every bit of
cover, the redmen pressed forward relentlessly.
Every moment the position of the scouts became
more untenable.
“We’ll have to fall back,” exclaimed Walt at
length. “Go slow, though,” he called, “and
keep your guns busy all the time.”
Fighting every inch of the distance, the scouts
retreated. From tree to tree they went, doggedly
and stubbornly contesting the ground with
215their opponents. The Indians were not to be
denied, however, and it was soon apparent that
the white men must run for their lives. They
were outnumbered by their foes and unless they
made their escape soon it was evident that they
would be caught in a trap.
Walt turned to Robert. “You and Deerfoot
go and put your brother on his horse,” he ordered.
“Then you both get on your ponies and
run for it. We will follow right behind you.”
“Don’t you need us here?” exclaimed Robert,
loath to leave his place on the front.
“Yes, we need you,” admitted Walt. “Joseph
needs you more, though. Go to him as fast as
you can. You’d better go quickly, too. Things
may be pretty hot for us here in a few moments.”
Robert delayed no longer. Summoning Deerfoot
he hurried back to the place where they
had left Joseph seated under the tree. On the
way he saw two of his comrades bending over
William Reach, the man who had been wounded.
From their attitude he could see plainly that
another member of the band had breathed his
last.
CHAPTER XX A MIDNIGHT RIDE
216
“What’s the matter, Bob?” exclaimed Joseph
as he spied his brother and Deerfoot
hastening in his direction.
“Everything’s the matter,” cried Robert.
“The Indians are attacking us for all they are
worth and we’ll be surrounded unless we get
out of here pretty quick.”
“Get the ponies and I’m ready,” said Joseph
eagerly.
Deerfoot and Robert hastened to obey and
in a very short time returned. Each one rode
his own pony and Robert led The Swallow, holding
the reins with his left hand. He quickly
dismounted and Deerfoot did the same.
“Now,” cried Robert cheerily, “just let us
get hold of you, Joe, and you’ll be in your saddle
before you know it.”
217“Don’t worry about me,” exclaimed Joseph.
“I’m almost as good as I ever was.”
“That’s the way to talk,” said Robert heartily.
“Are you all ready now?”
“All ready.”
Deerfoot and Robert soon lifted Joseph into
the saddle, where he seemed to be more at ease
than he had been on the ground. His two
friends watched him anxiously.
“Think you can stand it?” inquired Robert.
“I know I can.”
“Then we go,” exclaimed Deerfoot, and a moment
later they were cantering swiftly toward
the open prairie.
“Where are we going?” demanded Joseph.
“We go back to Dixon’s,” said Deerfoot.
“Who said to do that?” exclaimed Robert in
surprise. “I haven’t heard of anything like
that.”
“Walt say go there,” explained Deerfoot.
“What about our dispatches?” demanded
Joseph.
“He say band split. One half go Fort Armstrong.
One half go Dixon’s. We go Dixon’s.”
“You’re sure about that, are you?” inquired
Robert earnestly.
218“Me sure,” said Deerfoot confidently.
“What do you suppose his idea is?” Robert
asked of his brother. He always had the feeling
that Joseph would know the reason for
almost anything. He had a great amount of
confidence in his level-headed older brother.
“I don’t know,” said Joseph doubtfully.
“Perhaps he thinks that the smaller the band
the less chance there is of discovery. If we
split in two we may throw the Indians off the
trail.”
“That’s true,” agreed Robert. “I suppose
that was Walt’s idea, too.”
“How many of us are there anyway?” asked
Joseph. “We started out with ten. Have we
lost any men?”
“We certainly have. There are only six left
now.”
“What!” exclaimed Joseph. “You mean to
say that four men were killed?”
“Indeed they were,” said Robert sadly.
“There are four men back there in those woods
who’ll never do any more Indian fighting.”
“How about John Mason?” demanded Joseph.
“Don’t tell me he was killed.”
“He was all right a few moments ago.”
219“I hope nothing happens to him,” said Joseph
earnestly. “He’s too fine a man to lose.”
At this moment they emerged from the
swamp onto the prairie. Night had fallen and
the full moon was just appearing over the rim
of the horizon. The three fugitives were thus
assured of some light to guide them on their
long ride. Well it was too, for at present it
was not safe to halt. The opinion seemed to
be that their foes would not attempt any pursuit,
but of this they could not be sure. Their
one idea was to put as much distance between
them and their enemies as the condition of
Joseph’s wound would permit. Thus far he
was bearing up splendidly, but he was weak
and could not be counted on for too great an
exertion.
In silence they rode most of the time. Hour
after hour passed and mile after mile was covered.
The hardy ponies seemed tireless and
with apparent ease maintained their steady
gait across the plains. A halt was called about
midnight so that men and horses might have
a breathing spell, but after a short rest the
journey was resumed. Not a sign of the enemy
had they seen, but there was always the danger
220of encountering roving bands and the three
fugitives were all intent upon reaching Dixon’s
Ferry at the earliest possible moment.
As the first faint streaks of dawn appeared
over the expanse of prairie the little settlement
on the Rock River came into view. The sight
spurred the tired travelers on and in a short
time they were once more in the town and safe
again. Safe at least until they should start
out on their next expedition.
“Well, Joe,” exclaimed Robert, as he and
Deerfoot lifted the wounded young volunteer
from the back of The Swallow. “How do you
feel after your ride?”
“All right,” said Joseph and promptly
fainted. He had suffered much pain all through
the long, hard night and had kept up on nerve
alone. Now that the journey was ended he
could resist no longer, but gave up entirely.
Robert and Deerfoot laid him tenderly upon
the ground. “You stay here, Deerfoot,” exclaimed
Robert, “and I’ll go and see about having
Joe looked after in the hospital here.”
He hastened away and soon returned to say
that all arrangements had been made to receive
his brother in the hospital. In a short space
221of time Joseph was transferred to the house
which temporarily served for that purpose.
When Robert and Deerfoot were convinced that
all arrangements had been made for his comfort,
they left him there and sought their own
quarters.
Dixon’s Ferry now presented a forlorn appearance.
General Atkinson with the army had
moved on up the Rock River, leaving Major
Stillman’s corps at Dixon’s Ferry to care for
the wounded and to guard the supplies. No
sooner had Atkinson left, however, than practically
every man in Stillman’s corps deserted
and returned to his home. Disgracefully defeated,
they now added further disgrace to their
cowardly record by quitting their post.
The settlement was deserted except for a
few of the men who had enough pride and
patriotism to stick to their duty. All the supplies
for the armies of Generals Atkinson and
Whiteside were thus left practically unguarded.
They were at the mercy of Black Hawk, should
he choose to attack in force.
Robert was indignant and so was everyone
else who remained. This did not bring the
men back, however. Panic seemed to have
222seized the whole country. Black Hawk’s victory
at Sycamore Creek had inspired the whole
region with terror. Settlers fled from their
homes, in many cases leaving all their valuables
behind them. Sometimes even worse things
than that happened. If they had not been so
tragic they might have been amusing, as the
following story, told to Robert by one of the
men, illustrates.
There was one family that lived near the
Iroquois River in the northeastern part of
Illinois. They owned no horses, but had a large
family of small children, eleven in all. In the
course of their flight it was necessary for them
to cross the river. Coming to the bank they
found it was impossible for the small children
to cross unaided. The stream was high and
rapid, so that the father had to carry the little
ones over one at a time. Trip after trip he
made until he had them all across, as he thought.
They were about to continue their flight when
a cry from the opposite bank arrested their
attention.
Standing on the bank of the stream and crying
piteously was little Susan, just four years
old. In the excitement she had been overlooked.
223The father at once plunged into the
stream again to rescue his child, when the
mother, seeing it, cried out, “Never mind
Susan; we have succeeded in getting ten over,
which is more than we expected at first—and
we can better spare Susan than you, my dear.”
So poor little Susan was abandoned by her
panic-stricken family and left to the mercy of
the savages. No harm came to her, however,
for one of the neighbors out hunting found her
and took charge of her. Thus the poor child’s
life was saved, though not through any help
from her family who had treated her so
shabbily.
This was a sample of the conditions existing
on the border at that time, however. The settlers
were in a constant state of panic. The
rustle of a wild animal in the underbrush; the
howl of a wolf in the prairie; the fall of a forest
bough were enough to blanch the cheeks of
the bravest men.
“It makes me so mad!” exclaimed Robert
hotly. “The women and children can lose their
nerve if they want, but when the men do, too,
there is no excuse for them.”
He was sitting beside Joseph’s cot in the
224hospital the next day after their arrival, and
was giving full vent to his feelings.
“I know it,” replied Joseph. “It isn’t right
at all.”
“Isn’t right!” exclaimed Robert. “Well, I
should say not! Even the troops are losing
heart. A fine bunch of cowards we enlisted
with, I should say.”
“There is no use in getting so excited about
it, Bob,” said Joseph quietly.
“Yes, there is too. It does me good to say
what I think, anyway.”
“Perhaps that’s true,” laughed Joseph. “At
any rate you and I are going to do our duty,
no matter what the others may do.”
“We certainly are,” cried Robert. “Deerfoot
will stand by us, too.”
“Of course he will. What does he think
about things anyway?”
“How do I know? Did you ever hear Deerfoot
say what he thought about anything like
this? I never did myself.”
“Nor I,” agreed Joseph. “He doesn’t express
himself very freely, does he?”
“He certainly does not,” Robert agreed.
“He not only doesn’t express his opinion, but
225he doesn’t say anything at all. You know how
I like to talk, and it gets on my nerves to talk
and talk to Deerfoot and have him grunt and
grunt and once in a while say yes or no.”
“You mustn’t mind that,” laughed Joseph.
“That is only his way and you know what a
good friend of ours he really is.”
“Certainly I do. Just at present, though, I
don’t feel like sitting around and doing nothing.
There isn’t even anyone to talk to hardly
and I want to talk at least.”
“We’ll have lots to do in a little while, I
guess,” said Joseph. “This war isn’t over by
any means yet and just as quick as my leg is
better we can look around and find something.”
“When are you going to be well?”
“I don’t know,” replied Joseph. “The doctor
said in less than two weeks anyway, and probably
before then. If anything very important
happens before that time you can be sure that
I’ll be in it, wound or no wound.”
“You’ll be all right soon, I guess,” said Robert
cheerily. “I hope so anyway. General Atkinson
is chasing Black Hawk up the Rock and
you and I don’t want to miss any of the fun.”
“We won’t miss any; don’t worry about that.
226When Black Hawk gets into those swamps up
at the head of the Rock River near the lakes,
you can be sure it will take more than two weeks
to drive him out. We’ll see all the ‘fun’ we
want, all right.”
“I hope so,” exclaimed Robert earnestly.
“And now I must leave,” he added as he rose
to go. “Good-bye, Joe. I’ll come in again
soon.”
“Good-bye, Bob,” said Joseph. “If Deerfoot
talks too much, tell me and I’ll ask him to stop.”
“I only wish he’d start,” laughed Robert, as
he left his brother’s room and made his way
back to the tent which he and Deerfoot shared.
CHAPTER XXI THE FIGHT ON THE PEKATONIKA
227
Two weeks passed and Joseph was entirely
healed of his wound. A slight limp at
times was the only trace that remained and
that promised to disappear soon. He was up
and as cheerful as ever. They were still at
Dixon’s Ferry and the inaction did not gall
Joseph as much as it did his impetuous brother.
He spent much of his time with The Swallow,
grooming and caring for the beautiful pony.
He had taught the intelligent animal to come
at his whistle and most of the time the horse
followed at his heels in much the same manner
a dog would do. Every day Joseph’s pride in
his mount grew. He never ceased to wonder at
the easy gait and the wonderful speed The
Swallow exhibited on the frequent rides they
took over the prairies.
228There had been no organized fighting of late.
General Atkinson had returned to Dixon’s
Ferry as soon as he learned of the desertion
of Major Stillman’s corps. He had left General
Whiteside to carry on the pursuit of Black
Hawk, while he returned with the regulars to
protect the supplies left at Dixon’s Ferry.
Whiteside’s men soon became tired of soldiering,
however. Black Hawk had crossed the
northern border of Illinois and was now in
Michigan. He had gone into the unexplored
and almost impenetrable swamps of the north,
the men declared, and could never be captured.
At any rate they said that, being Illinois volunteers,
they were not required to serve outside
the state. They also claimed they had enlisted
for only a month and that their time of
service had expired.
After two or three days of fruitless skirmishing
and before they had come to the Michigan
state line, a council of officers was held and
further search for Black Hawk was abandoned.
They had penetrated only as far as the Kishwaukee
River, not many miles north of the
place where Stillman was defeated on Sycamore
Creek. However, they turned and
229marched south to Ottawa, where, at their own
request, they were mustered out of service by
Governor Reynolds on the twenty-seventh and
twenty-eighth of May, 1832.
On their way from the Kishwaukee to Ottawa
the militiamen stopped at a farm on Indian
creek where a few days before a terrible massacre
of Whites had taken place. The mutilated
bodies of fifteen men, women and children lay
unburied upon the ground. This frightful
scene instead of inspiring the troops to renewed
action against the Indians, still further discouraged
them. They were more eager than
ever to give up the fight.
Governor Reynolds was active, however, and
at once called for a fresh levy of “at least two
thousand troops.” These men were to assemble
at Beardstown, a place on the Illinois River
south of Dixon’s Ferry, and were to serve
through the war. Meanwhile the government
at Washington ordered a thousand regulars
under General Winfield Scott to proceed from
their stations on the coast to the seat of
war.
General Atkinson had been greatly disturbed
by the failure of the first campaign and the
230cowardice of the militia shamed him deeply.
At his earnest appeal three hundred mounted
volunteer rangers agreed to remain in the field
and protect the line of Illinois settlements until
the new army could be mobilized. Colonel
Henry Frye was in command of this company,
and Joseph, Robert and Deerfoot lost no time
in enrolling themselves with this band.
“It sounds as though we’d find something to
do with them,” was Robert’s way of explaining
the move. “We’ve been idle long enough and
we can’t get very much revenge if we just sit
and do nothing.”
“You’re right, Bob,” agreed Joseph. “My
leg is all right now and I’m just as anxious as
you are to be active again.”
“Oh, no you’re not,” remarked Robert. “It
isn’t possible for any one to be as eager about
it as I am.”
“Well, we won’t argue it anyway,” laughed
Joseph. “We’ll compromise and say we’re both
eager.”
“Does that suit you, Deerfoot?” inquired
Robert, at the same time winking slyly at his
brother.
“Ugh,” grunted Deerfoot.
231“Does Joseph’s suggestion suit you?” Robert
persisted.
“Sure, me suit,” replied the Pottowattomie
seriously, and try as he might Robert was unable
to get any other answer from the red man.
The young frontiersman was full of mischief
and took special delight in teasing Deerfoot.
The Indian took everything seriously and never
seemed to be able to appreciate the fact that
white boys sometimes said things in fun that
they did not mean.
“Oh, you’re hopeless,” exclaimed Robert in
mock despair. “Haven’t you any sense of
humor at all, Deerfoot?”
“Huh?” grunted the Indian blankly.
“Never mind,” laughed Robert. “You’re all
right, Deerfoot, and if I meant all I said the
way you do I guess I’d be a better citizen than
I am now.”
Deerfoot did not understand what all this
talk was about and he looked in amazement
from one to the other of the boys. They were
much amused at his bewilderment, but they
soon ceased teasing him. It always made them
feel that they were taking an unfair advantage
of their faithful friend, and like all true sportsmen
232they derived no pleasure from a contest
that was unequal.
“I wonder if there has been any fighting
lately,” said Joseph a few moments later.
“Of course there has,” exclaimed Robert. “It
is going on all the time and at this very minute
I suppose some poor family is being murdered.”
“Where?” demanded Deerfoot innocently.
“I don’t know where,” said Robert. “I just
said I supposed some family somewhere was
being murdered.”
“Ugh,” grunted Deerfoot. He asked no more
questions and merely shook his head in token
that he did not understand.
The three friends were seated under a large
oak tree. The time was mid-afternoon and
they were enjoying the warm sunshine and the
fine June weather. It was a lazy day and the
three volunteers felt lazy themselves. They
had done nothing for so long they had acquired
the habit of being idle. At the same time the
inaction was not entirely to their liking, as was
evidenced by their conversation.
“I wish something would happen,” yawned
Robert. “I must say I’m bored.”
As he finished speaking a man was seen approaching
233on horseback. This was not an unusual
sight in itself, but when time hangs heavy
on one’s hands almost anything is of interest.
The three friends sat up and watched the horseman
as he came near.
“Why, it’s John Mason!” exclaimed Joseph
suddenly. “Where do you suppose he has
been?”
“He’ll probably tell us in a couple of minutes,”
said Robert, rising to his feet.
Mason rode straight to the tree where the
three men were and quickly dismounted. He
shook hands heartily all around and was accorded
a most enthusiastic welcome. Innumerable
questions were asked of him by the two
brothers, but he made no attempt to answer
them at that time. “You two boys are regular
interrogation points,” he exclaimed laughingly.
“Just give me a chance to catch my breath and
I’ll try to reply to some of your questions.”
“Have you been in any more fights?” demanded
Robert.
“I should say I had.”
“Tell us about it quick,” Robert insisted, but
Joseph restrained him.
“Give Mr. Mason a chance, Bob,” he said.
234“Don’t you see he is tired and wants to rest?
Perhaps he doesn’t want to tell us about it
anyway.”
“Yes, I do, too,” exclaimed Mason. “First
of all, though, I want to say we got our dispatches
to Fort Armstrong safely and didn’t
even seen an Indian on the way.”
“We didn’t either,” said Joseph. “We came
back here without a bit of trouble.”
“I see you are safe and sound. How is the
wounded leg?”
“As good as ever,” replied Joseph and he
executed a war dance to prove the truth of his
statement.
“Good for you,” cried John Mason. “Now,
are you ready to hear about the fight?”
“I am,” exclaimed Robert quickly.
“All right then,” said Mason. “Here goes.
I had been sent to Fort Hamilton from Fort
Armstrong and was there on the fourteenth of
June. That was just about a week ago. Word
came to us on the next day that a scouting
party of Sacs had killed five men the day before
at the Spafford farm. The farm lies on
the Pekatonika River, not far from Fort Hamilton.
Colonel Henry Dodge was in command
235of the brigade stationed at the fort and at once
started in pursuit of the Indians. Never being
willing to be left out of anything I asked to be
allowed to go along and received the desired
permission.
“We set out with all possible speed and soon
came upon the trail of the Indians. In fact
we were so close to them at one time that we
could see some of the warriors. We had no
chance to shoot, however, and the Indians fled
with amazing speed. They crossed and recrossed
the Pekatonika several times, but we
pressed them closer and closer, and at length
when they saw that escape was impossible they
made a stand. We immediately dismounted
and cautiously picked our way forward. The
Sacs had taken up their position in a dense
thicket and were waiting for us.
“Colonel Dodge intended that we should fire
a volley and then charge. The Indians, however,
were on the lookout for us and fired first.
One of our soldiers, a man named Apple, was
killed, and a man named Jenkins was wounded.
We never let up on them for a moment, however,
and several were shot as they attempted
to escape by swimming the river. When the
236fight started I think our forces were about equal
in strength, but the Indians had been in the
river so much that many of them had got
their powder wet and so their guns were useless.”
“It should have been easy to finish them
then,” remarked Robert.
“Don’t you think so!” exclaimed Mason
warmly. “Their guns may have been no good
to them, but they still had knives and they tried
to close in on us with those. They fought desperately,
but many of them were shot down.
One big, burly brave came plunging directly at
me. He had his gun to his shoulder and when
only a few yards distant he pulled the trigger.
The powder was wet, however, and it did not
go off. I raised my rifle, but my powder was
also damp and so nothing happened when I
tried to fire, either. Meanwhile, knife in hand,
the savage came toward me. My case was desperate,
but I still had my revolver and when
he was but a few scant feet away I drew it and
shot him down.”
“Whew!” exclaimed Joseph, “That was
pretty close, wasn’t it?”
“Too close to be comfortable,” said Mason
237grimly. “I can tell you I was frightened there
for a couple of seconds.”
“You had good reason to be,” agreed Robert.
“But tell me,” he continued, “how did the fight
finally end?”
“As far as I know every one of the Indians
was killed. Of course I can’t be sure of that,
but I don’t think a single one escaped. Our men
fought like demons that day.”
“That’s the way to fight!” exclaimed Robert.
“At least that’s the way to do when you’re
fighting demons.”
“No, he isn’t one, I know,” agreed Robert.
“You can fight like one just the same, can’t you,
Deerfoot?”
“Ugh,” grunted the Pottowattomie, much embarrassed
by the attention being paid him.
“If you had been as near to him in that fight
the other day as I was,” Robert continued,
“you’d have thought he was a demon all right.”
“We’re glad he’s on our side, I guess,” remarked
Joseph earnestly.
“We certainly are,” echoed Robert. “How
many men did you lose in that fight on the
238Pekatonika?” he asked, turning to Mason once
more.
“Three men killed and one wounded. That
wasn’t so bad considering what we did to the
Indians, was it?”
“I should say not,” exclaimed Robert.
At that moment a messenger came up to the
place where they were seated and handed a note
to Joseph. The young volunteer tore it open at
once and eagerly scanned the contents, while
the others watched him with deep interest.
CHAPTER XXII APPLE RIVER FORT
239
“We leave for Galena at once,” announced
Joseph when he had finished reading his
communication.
“Good!” exclaimed Robert, immediately jumping
to his feet. “At last we are going to do
something.”
“Who is ordered to go?” asked Mason.
“Why, Bob, Deerfoot and I,” replied Joseph.
“I wish you were going too.”
“So do I,” exclaimed Mason. “I think I’ll
see if I can arrange it.”
“Go on,” urged Robert. “Four is just the
right number and we need you along with
us.”
“All right,” agreed Mason. “You three go
get ready to start and I’ll see what can be done.
I hope I’ll be with you.”
240“We do, too,” said Joseph eagerly. “We’ll
see you soon.”
They hastened away and were soon busied
with their preparations for the journey. This
task did not take long, however, and they were
soon ready to leave. They were engaged in
saddling their horses when John Mason rode
joyously up to the spot where they were
standing.
“It’s all right, boys,” he announced. “I am
going with you.”
“Fine!” exclaimed Joseph and Robert in one
breath. Deerfoot even relaxed so far as to
show that he too was pleased to have John
Mason a member of the party.
“Do you know where your errand is at Galena?”
Mason inquired of Joseph.
“We are to take some dispatches to a Colonel
Strode. Do you know him?”
“Yes, indeed. I think he is in command there,
isn’t he?”
“I can’t say as to that,” replied Joseph. “At
any rate he is the man we are to see.”
“You haven’t got the dispatches yet, have
you?” asked Robert.
“No. I am going after them now. I’ll meet
241you right here in about ten minutes and then
we’ll be all ready to start.”
The young volunteer swung himself gracefully
into his saddle and a moment later The
Swallow was bearing him swiftly toward headquarters.
True to his word he was back again
in ten minutes and without further delay the
four horsemen set out. They soon crossed the
Rock River and struck across country for
Galena.
So long as enough light remained for them
to see their way they kept on. They had not
started until late afternoon, however, so before
a great many miles had been covered it became
necessary to call a halt. Camp was pitched
and preparations made for the night. Lots
were drawn and the night divided into four
parts, each member of the party standing guard
for one quarter of the time. Though no sign
of the enemy had been seen it was felt to be
very necessary to have a watch. Roving bands
of Black Hawk’s warriors infested the country
and it was never possible to tell just when and
where they would be encountered.
Soon after daylight the journey was continued.
The little band kept close together and
242a sharp lookout was maintained at all times.
They followed the old trail from Chicago to
Galena and toward noon came to Kellogg’s
Grove Fort, on Plum River. They stopped
there for their noonday meal and then soon after
proceeded on their way. Excellent progress
was made and several hours before sundown
they spied a small blockhouse, called Apple
River Fort, about fourteen miles east of Galena.
“That’s Apple River Fort!” exclaimed John
Mason as the sturdy little building appeared
in the distance. “We’ve made good time and
we’ll be in Galena before long.”
“If we reach there before dark it will be time
enough,” said Joseph.
“Plenty of time,” agreed Mason. “Why——”
The sharp report of a rifle interrupted him.
He was half turned about in his saddle and
held the reins loosely in one hand. His right
hand rested on his horse’s back as he looked
around at his companions. The rifle ball struck
him squarely in the right forearm and nearly
precipitated him from the saddle. At the same
time his horse jumped and only superb horsemanship
saved the man from being thrown to
the ground.
243“Are you hurt?” cried Robert anxiously.
“In the arm. It isn’t anything,” said Mason
quickly.
“Can you ride all right?” demanded Joseph.
“Of course I can.”
“Then we’d better waste no time. Just look
back there!”
One glance was sufficient. Behind them and
coming on at full speed was a war party of
over one hundred Indians. Once more the two
brothers heard the war whoop resound over
the plains and again they fled for their lives.
“Make for the fort!” cried Mason. He set
spurs to his horse and closely followed by the
three others raced for the blockhouse looming
up before them. The yells of the Indians
sounded in their ears, while bullets cut the air
all about them.
Joseph soon outdistanced the others, owing
to the superior speed of The Swallow, and he
was the first to arrive at the fort. His comrades
were not far behind, however, and as they
came within the protection of the stockade they
were greeted by a cheer from the occupants
who had watched the thrilling race with breathless
interest. At the same time a volley from
244the rifles of the defenders caused the Indians
to halt abruptly.
A moment later the four messengers were
inside the fort and were preparing to assist
in its defense. Men, women and children were
there, all gathered from the nearby cabins
and surrounding farms. John Mason’s wound
quickly received attention and was found to be
not at all serious. When it had been bathed
and bound up he was even able to handle his
gun.
“Whew! We reached here just in time, I
should say,” exclaimed Joseph, wiping his brow.
“Yes, but wasn’t that fun?” said Robert excitedly.
“It certainly was great sport racing
those fellows.”
“Now that it’s over, it was all right,” agreed
Joseph. “I’d hate to have to do that every
day though.”
“Let’s lend a hand here,” exclaimed Robert
eagerly. “There are a couple of portholes over
there we can take care of. Look at Deerfoot;
he is already as busy as he can be.”
The inside of the fort presented a curious
scene. At every porthole was a man with a
rifle. As fast as they could load they fired out
245at the horde of yelling savages, who in turn
were showering bullets on the walls of the
stockade. Powder was plentiful, but the defenders
were short of bullets. Fortunately a
supply of lead had been received from Galena
only an hour before, however, and the women
were now busied in molding bullets. As fast
as they could they melted the lead and molded
it into rifle balls. The men were gallant in
their defense, but so also were the women.
They worked like beavers and had it not been
for their splendid efforts the fort must surely
have fallen.
The Indians were on all sides. Every bit of
cover seemed to hide one of the red men. A
steady fire was kept up against the fort, but,
thanks to the thickness and strength of its walls,
the bullets could not penetrate. At the same
time the heroic efforts of its defenders kept
the Indians from attacking too recklessly.
An officer named Captain Stone was in command
of the fort. He went from one to another
of the men, urging them to still greater efforts
and encouraging everyone by his air of quiet
confidence and courage. Joseph ran short of
bullets and had gone for more. As he was receiving
246a fresh supply, Captain Stone approached
the spot where he was standing.
“That was a narrow escape you had, young
man,” he remarked.
“Yes, sir,” replied Joseph, touching his cap.
“We have had so many lately, though, that we
are sort of becoming used to them.”
“What is your name?” inquired Captain
Stone.
“Joseph Hall.”
“Are you the young man who owns The
Swallow?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’ve heard of you, then. You are famous
all along the frontier. Were you on The Swallow
when you came in here?”
“Yes,” replied Joseph, much pleased by the
captain’s remarks. “There stands The Swallow
right now.” And he pointed to a corner of the
fort where the horses were tethered.
“I must go and see him, when this fight is
over. That is, if we win.”
“Of course we’ll win,” exclaimed Joseph.
“Don’t you think so?”
“Unless they set fire to us.”
“You don’t think they’ll do that, do you?
247Why, they couldn’t get close enough to us at
any rate.”
“After dark they might. Still, I don’t believe
they will,” Captain Stone continued. “The
blaze could be seen for miles and would bring
a swarm of troops down upon them in a very
short time.”
Captain Stone hurried on and Joseph resumed
his place at the porthole once more.
Every gun was needed, as the men in the fort
numbered only about twenty-five, while the Indians
from all appearances had at least four
times that number. Several of the red men
had been either killed or wounded, for every
few moments one of them could be seen being
carried off the field of battle. So far no one
inside the fort had even been wounded and the
fight had been going on for at least a half-hour.
This happy state of affairs did not last long,
however, for hardly had Joseph returned to his
post when a bullet penetrated the porthole next
to the one Robert defended. The man stationed
there had just raised his head to take aim when
the bullet struck him. He fell back, and even
before the two boys could spring to his assistance,
he died.
248Almost at the same moment a man on the
opposite side of the fort was shot. He too had
been peering out of the porthole, but fortunately
the ball just grazed his head, inflicting
only a slight scalp wound. These occurrences
only served to increase the ardor of the defenders,
however. Every man returned to his task
with renewed energy and the fire from the
fort continued even more furiously than before.
“Black Hawk out there,” said Deerfoot
quietly to Joseph a few moments later.
“What!” exclaimed Joseph. “Black Hawk
himself?”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure?” demanded Joseph. “Did
you see him yourself?”
“Me see him sure.”
“Show him to me.”
“No see him now,” said Deerfoot.
“Did you hear that, Bob?” cried Joseph.
“Deerfoot says he saw Black Hawk himself out
there.”
“You did?” cried Robert excitedly to Deerfoot.
“Show him to me and let me take a shot
at him.”
249“Me take shot at him,” said Deerfoot. “No
hit him though. He gone now.”
“All the others seem to be leaving too,” exclaimed
Joseph, after a careful glance out of
the porthole which he was guarding.
Sure enough, the Indians did appear to be
withdrawing. Their fire was slackening and
they evidently were convinced that the sacrifice
necessary to take the fort would not be worth
while. Everywhere they appeared to be retreating.
Loud yells of triumph sounded from
sturdy little Apple River Fort as its defenders
saw their enemy moving away.
The white men did not escape loss, however.
Even from the fort the Indians could be seen
pillaging the nearby houses and barns. Cattle
and horses that could not be moved inside the
stockade were being driven away, and the Indians
were loading the horses with bags of
provisions taken from the storehouses of the
settlers.
“That can’t be helped, I’m afraid,” remarked
Captain Stone when he heard what was going
on. “We still have our lives and we ought to
count ourselves lucky. Certainly they are worth
more than a few cattle and some provisions.”
250Everyone else seemed to share this view,
though at first a few of the more daring ones
had been eager to sally out and continue the
contest. They were soon persuaded that such
an undertaking would be foolhardy, however,
and were content to remain where they were.
Joseph still had his dispatches for Colonel
Strode and he was at a loss as to what he should
do about them. Finally he decided to ask Captain
Stone.
“Don’t even think of going now!” exclaimed
that officer, when Joseph asked his opinion
about pushing on that night. “Why, it’s almost
dark now and you don’t know how many of
those Indians are still lurking about. I consider
that you’ve done enough for today. By
all means wait until morning before you even
consider leaving here.”
This advice Joseph reported to his three
companions, who all agreed with Captain Stone.
Even Robert thought it might be advisable to
wait. It was so decided and they immediately
made preparations to spend the night at Apple
River Fort.
CHAPTER XXIII ACROSS COUNTRY
251
The Indians had evidently given up all idea
of capturing the fort, for no sign of them
appeared during the night, and in the morning
it was even considered safe to venture outside
the stockade. This was done with great caution,
however, for it was never safe to count on
anything that a hostile Indian might do.
“I wish I’d seen Black Hawk,” exclaimed
Robert, while he and his three companions
were eating breakfast. “You’re sure he was
there, Deerfoot?”
“Me sure,” said the Pottowattomie confidently.
“He ought to know him when he sees him,”
said Joseph. “You’ve seen him lots of times,
haven’t you, Deerfoot?” he asked.
“Yes, plenty time,” Deerfoot assented.
252“Just suppose I could have shot him,” exclaimed
Robert excitedly. “Why, the whole war
would probably have stopped at once, and think
what a hero I’d be.”
“Wouldn’t you just as soon capture him,
Red?” laughed John Mason. “As long as you
intend to be a hero, wouldn’t you be willing to
be one without any loss of life?”
“Yes,” agreed Robert. “I guess I’d just as
soon capture him.”
“Let’s hope he doesn’t capture us is all I can
say,” exclaimed Joseph, earnestly. “He might
not be as good to us as Bob would be to him.”
“I didn’t say I’d be good to him,” protested
Robert.
“I’m afraid you’re a bloodthirsty young
man,” remarked Mason laughingly. “Don’t
you think we’d better get started on our way to
Galena pretty soon?” he added, addressing his
remarks to Joseph.
“I do,” agreed Joseph. “You’re not going
with us, though, with your arm wounded the
way it is.”
“Certainly I’m going. Why, that little
scratch isn’t bad enough to need bandaging
hardly.”
253“All right then,” said Joseph. “Let’s be off.”
They hastened to saddle their horses and
were in the midst of saying their good-byes to
the brave defenders of the little fort when a
great commotion arrested their attention.
Shouts from the guards and the excitement of
the inmates running to and fro warned them
that something of great interest was taking
place.
“What’s it all about, do you suppose?” exclaimed
Joseph curiously.
“I don’t know,” replied Robert quickly, “but
I intend to find out at once.”
He hastened to join the crowd which was rapidly
gathering at one end of the fort. The gates
had been opened and the people were peering
eagerly out. Robert took one look and then
turned and called to his companions. “Come
here, quick!” he cried. “There is something
worth seeing out here.”
No time was lost in obeying and a few moments
later Joseph, Deerfoot and John Mason
had joined the people who were gazing eagerly
out from their position inside the fort.
“Look at them!” exclaimed Joseph. “Who
do you suppose they are?”
254“From Galena, I guess,” replied Mason. A
hundred horsemen rode toward the fort. A
great cloud of dust rose about them and a loud
cheer from the throats of the fort’s defenders
went out to greet the newcomers. It was easy
to see that the riders were white men, and consequently
were friends. With this reinforcement
there was but slight danger that Black
Hawk would dare return to the attack.
Captain Stone hastened out to meet the fresh
arrivals and soon everyone else was also gathered
around the horsemen, who had now drawn
rein and halted just outside the fort.
“Who is that officer Captain Stone is talking
to?” Joseph inquired of John Mason.
“That is Colonel Strode.”
“The man I want to see,” exclaimed Joseph.
“Do you suppose I can give him these dispatches
now? That would save us a trip to
Galena.”
“I don’t see why you can’t,” replied Mason.
“When he finishes talking to Captain Stone go
up and hand them to him.”
Joseph followed this advice and when a
chance presented itself a few moments later, he
pushed The Swallow through the crowd and approached
255Colonel Strode. He saluted and
started to speak.
“Colonel Strode,” he began, “I have some
dispatches for you from Colonel Zachary Taylor
at Dixon’s Ferry. I thought perhaps I
might give them to you now instead of going to
Galena.”
“Is your name Hall?” asked Colonel Strode
abruptly.
“Why, yes,” replied Joseph, surprised that
the Colonel should know who he was.
“I thought so. I recognized you by your
horse.”
“This pony seems to be very famous,” laughed
Joseph, patting The Swallow affectionately on
the neck.
“I should say he was. You’ll be famous, too,
if you don’t stop killing Indians.”
Joseph blushed furiously and was much embarrassed
by this compliment, paid him in the
presence of so many people. He could not say
a word, but merely held the dispatches out to
the Colonel.
“From Colonel Taylor, you say?”
“Yes, sir,” answered Joseph.
“All right, young man, and thank you very
256much. How is Colonel Taylor? He is a warm
friend of mine and a splendid man.”
“He is very well,” said Joseph. Little did
he imagine that the man they were discussing
was later to become the president of the United
States.
“I’m glad to hear it,” said Colonel Strode
warmly. “I’m also glad to meet you and to
see what the new owner of The Swallow looks
like.” He smiled pleasantly at the young volunteer
and then turned away to give an order
to one of his aides. Joseph realized that he
was dismissed and quickly withdrew.
“We may as well start back,” he said when
he had rejoined his comrades.
“Your business all finished here?” asked Robert.
“All finished.”
“Let’s go then,” exclaimed Robert. “I don’t
believe we can do anything more for the people
here.”
A few moments later the four scouts were
on their way back to Dixon’s Ferry, their errand
accomplished. Their safe return was by
no means assured, however, for they well knew
that Black Hawk and his war party were probably
257not far distant. His failure to take Apple
River Fort would make the chief all the more
relentless against his next foe.
It was easy to follow the trail of the marauding
Indians, for they had taken no pains to
cover up their tracks. The four volunteers did
not long keep on this trail, however. Deerfoot
led the way and he soon turned to the others.
“We better go ’round,” he remarked.
“Go ‘’round’,” exclaimed John Mason.
“What do you mean?”
“He means,” explained Joseph, “that we’d
better make a detour and not keep on this trail
any longer.”
“Ugh,” grunted Deerfoot, nodding his head
in token that Joseph’s explanation was the correct
one.
“That’s perfectly right,” agreed Mason. “I
think that is the only thing to do. Certainly if
we keep on this way we’re apt to catch up with
the Indians at almost any time and that’s the
one thing we don’t want to happen.”
Deerfoot still leading the way, they turned
due west from the course they had been following.
They continued in this direction for about
three miles and then they once more turned and
258rode parallel with their original course. Black
Hawk was evidently following the same trail
over which the four scouts had come on their
way from Dixon’s Ferry the day previous.
“Where do you suppose he is going?” asked
Robert, speaking in reference to Black Hawk.
He was always uppermost in men’s minds in
those days.
“He is headed straight for Kellogg’s Grove,”
replied John Mason.
“Do you suppose he will attack there?”
“I’m sure I don’t know,” said Mason. “If he
does I hope he has no better luck than he had
yesterday.”
“There are no soldiers to speak of at Kellogg’s
Grove,” Joseph reminded the others.
“He may be able to surprise the fort now and
capture it.”
“There were no soldiers there yesterday,”
agreed Mason. “At the same time it seems to
me I heard something at Dixon’s Ferry the
other day about some men being sent there.”
“To be stationed there, you mean?” asked
Robert.
“No, I don’t think that was it. I can’t remember
just what it was, but somehow I have
259it in my mind that that spy battalion under
Major Dement was to be sent over to this part
of the country somewhere. They may not be
at Kellogg’s Grove itself, but they ought to be
around here, some place.”
“Maybe they’ll meet Black Hawk’s war party
coming the other way,” exclaimed Robert excitedly.
“I wish we could be with them.”
“It seems to me you are always looking for
trouble,” said John Mason, smiling broadly at
the eagerness of the red-headed young frontiersman.
“Well, it has to come some time,” explained
Robert. “These Indians simply have to be
beaten before the war can end. The sooner it
is over with the better it will be. That’s the
way I look at it.”
“That’s very true,” agreed Mason. “You
don’t have to be in it though, do you?”
“Of course I do,” Robert insisted. “I want
to feel that I had a part in winning the war.
You must also remember that Joe and I have
an account to settle with Mr. Black Hawk.”
Mason had no answer to this remark and as
no one else offered to say anything the ride was
continued in silence for some time. Over the
260rolling prairies they went, the scenery sometimes
varied by a grove of trees or a patch of
woods. Mile after mile they covered and no
trace of the enemy appeared. Deerfoot evidently
knew the country thoroughly, for when
they had gone a certain distance he turned
abruptly east.
“Kellogg Grove there,” he exclaimed pointing
ahead of him as he spoke.
It had been decided that a halt should be
made there on the way back just as had been
done on the outcoming journey.
“Good!” cried Joseph heartily, in response to
Deerfoot’s remark. “I feel hungry and know
I shall appreciate a little food.”
“We all will, I guess,” agreed Mason. “How
far are we from Kellogg’s Grove now, Deerfoot?”
“Two mile.”
“That won’t take long,” exclaimed Robert.
“By the way,” he added suddenly, and speaking
to Mason, “what has become of Walt?”
“Why, I don’t know,” replied Mason. “I left
him over at Fort Armstrong some time ago. I
forget where he was going. It seems to me he
was to join Major Dement’s battalion, though.”
261“That’s the one sent over here,” Joseph remarked.
“Why, to be sure it is,” exclaimed Mason.
“Perhaps if we run into them we may find Walt.
I’d like to see him again.”
“So should I,” agreed Robert. “We used to
get pretty mad at him once in a while but just
the same I like him. Don’t you, Joe?”
“Surely I do,” said Joseph heartily. “I hope
we’ll meet him soon again.”
“There’s Kellogg’s Grove now,” cried Mason
suddenly.
“Does it look as if anyone was there?” asked
Joseph.
“Yes, plenty people,” said Deerfoot. “Many
white soldier.”
“It must be Major Dement’s command,” cried
Mason. “At any rate we’ll know soon.”
The four volunteers unconsciously quickened
their pace, and in a short time arrived at their
destination to find that John Mason’s guess was
correct. Major Dement was there with a spy
battalion of about one hundred and fifty men.
CHAPTER XXIV KELLOGG’S GROVE
262
As they rode up to the fort the first person
to greet them was Walt. He had seen
them coming a long way off and hastened out
to meet his four friends. He was delighted to
see them again and showed his pleasure plainly.
“You’re just in time to see some fun, I think,”
he remarked after a few moments had elapsed
and the travelers had dismounted from their
ponies.
“What do you mean?” exclaimed Robert
eagerly. He at once scented action and was
enthusiastic at the prospect.
“Two men came in just a few minutes ago
and reported that they had seen some Indians
about four or five miles from here.”
“Are we going after them?” demanded Robert.
263“I can’t say as to that,” replied Walt.
“You’ll have to ask Major Dement.”
“You said you were hungry a little while ago,
Bob,” Joseph reminded his brother.
“I know, but I’ve forgotten about that. When
there is a chance of a fight I never feel like
eating.”
“We’d better get something just the same,”
said John Mason. “No man can fight on an
empty stomach. Ask any general and he’ll tell
you that.”
“You can get food right inside here,” said
Walt. “Follow me and I’ll fix you up.”
No second invitation was needed and the four
scouts had soon disposed of a hearty meal.
Walt had left them to eat by themselves but
just as they were finishing he came hurrying up
with an air of satisfaction to the place where
they were seated.
“If you are looking for a fight you can find
one now,” he exclaimed to Robert.
“I’m ready,” cried Robert, immediately rising
to his feet. “Where is it?”
“Major Dement is calling for twenty-five volunteers
to go out and reconnoiter. Do you
want to go?”
264“Of course I do,” said Robert instantly.
“Where is Major Dement?”
“Over there,” replied Walt, pointing to a man
who was standing in the midst of a group of
soldiers.
“I’m with you, Bob,” exclaimed Joseph, and
he, too, started forward.
“Me go,” said Deerfoot quickly and he followed
Joseph.
“It looks as though I’d have to go or be left
alone,” laughed Mason. “How about you,
Walt?”
“I’ve already volunteered and been accepted.”
Before many minutes had elapsed John Mason,
Deerfoot, and the two young brothers had
also been accepted as members of the party.
The little band soon sallied forth from the
blockhouse and started across the prairie. Joseph
noticed that among the twenty-five men
who had volunteered there was a large proportion
of officers. He called Walt’s attention to
this fact.
“I noticed it, too,” said Walt. “I don’t think
it is right, either.”
“Nor I,” exclaimed Joseph. “Major Dement
isn’t with us but there are mighty few officers
265left in the fort. I’m afraid that if anything
serious happens, there may be trouble. The
men aren’t well drilled, and, without enough officers,
I’m afraid they may become disorganized
if they are left back there practically to themselves.”
“Let’s hope not,” said Walt earnestly. “The
militia has acquired a pretty bad reputation so
far, but these men look like better fighters than
the ones Major Stillman had at Sycamore
Creek.”
“They couldn’t be worse any way,” exclaimed
Joseph disgustedly.
Walt and Joseph were riding in the rear rank
of the party. They were scarcely out of sight
of their camp now, but a sudden yell warned
them that already the enemy had been discovered.
Far out on the prairies appeared a small
grove and between this and the fort were three
Indians riding backward and forward.
The reconnoitering party started after them
at full speed and were soon strung out in a long
line across the prairie. The three Indians immediately
upon sighting the white men, turned
and rode for the grove as fast as their horses
could carry them. Joseph had started from
266the rear but thanks to the speed of The Swallow
was soon up with the leaders. Robert had been
in the van from the start and Deerfoot and Mason
were with him.
In the meantime Major Dement had been observing
his party of scouts from a vantage
point he occupied near the fort. He saw all
that was happening and he immediately suspected
a trick. The three Indians were racing
straight for the grove and he feared that concealed
there were reinforcements, who were
merely waiting for the little band to ride into
the trap set for them. The Major at once
jumped upon his horse and with a small portion
of his men set out to overtake the scouts and
warn them of their danger.
He was well mounted and before a great distance
had been covered was able to come up
with the hindermost members of the band.
Several men, however, were so far in advance
in their mad pursuit of the Indians that he
was unable to reach them in time. Among this
number were Robert, Joseph, Deerfoot and
Walt. The calls and shouts of their comrades
did not reach their ears and on they raced. The
fleeing Indians were making for the grove some
267three miles distant, hotly pursued by the Major’s
men.
When they were a little less than a half-mile
from the grove Major Dement dismounted his
men and formed them in a line. Seven or eight
were still in advance, however, intent only upon
overtaking the Indians. Joseph now led the
pursuit, with Walt close behind him. Then
came four men who were of Major Dement’s
original command and bringing up the rear
rode Robert and Deerfoot. The last two mentioned
were in that position solely on account
of the speed of their horses. Certainly Robert
would have led the party if he had had his
wish.
Nearer and nearer to the grove they came.
On they kept without the least suspicion of the
danger to which they were exposing themselves.
Major Dement had drawn up the men who had
dismounted on a little ridge, and with intense
anxiety they watched their comrades approach
the grove.
Suddenly it happened as the Major had
feared. From out the shelter of the grove
poured the Indians. They were all mounted,
stripped to their waists and painted for battle.
268A galling fire poured from their guns and two
of the white men fell to the ground lifeless.
One of these two was Walt. The bullet had
entered his temple and one glance was sufficient
to assure Joseph that his companion was dead.
He turned and fled, and with him fled the five
remaining members of the daring little company.
A volley from the men on the ridge killed
two or three of the Indians, but the rest came on
at undiminished speed. As they reached the
bodies of the two dead soldiers a large number
surrounded them, clubbing and stabbing the
lifeless remains. By the time that Joseph and
his five companions reached the ridge where
their comrades were drawn up in line the red
men were close upon them and upon both flanks.
The Indians had sallied forth with terrific
yells which had been heard by the soldiers remaining
at the fort. This portion of the
battalion had been ordered to hold themselves
in readiness for any emergency, but at the sound
of the guns and the war whoops they mounted
their horses and started to the rescue of their
companions. Coming nearer, however, they
met Major Dement and his men fleeing in hot
haste, and upon seeing the number of the Indians
269they, too, turned and retreated toward
the fort.
A mad race ensued in which the Whites were
victors by a narrow margin. They were first
to reach the blockhouse, however, and springing
from their horses they quickly occupied the defenses.
It was necessary to leave their mounts
outside and the horses were huddled together
around a work bench on the least exposed side
of the fort. The best marksmen immediately
took their places at the portholes.
An ominous stillness filled the air. In large
force the Indians swarmed around the blockhouse.
They kept under cover as far as possible,
however, and seemed to be planning the
best method of attack. All at once the sharp
crack of a rifle broke the silence and proved
that someone of the white men had located the
enemy. Straightway the firing became general.
“Let ’em have it, Joe!” exclaimed Robert
hotly. “We’ve got Walt to pay them back for
now, too.”
“I’ll let ’em have it all right,” replied Joseph
grimly. He carefully sighted his rifle and fired.
An Indian some two hundred yards away who
270had been so careless as to expose his head for
an instant, suddenly let his gun drop limply
from his hands and sank to the ground.
“I got one,” said Joseph casually.
“Good for you!” cried Robert exultantly.
“That’s what we’re here for.”
“Me get one, too,” remarked Deerfoot. He
was busily engaged in loading his gun for another
shot at his ancient enemies.
“I hope we all get one,” exclaimed Robert.
“At least I hope we all get at least one.” He
bent to his task again and no further conversation
was held for some time.
The little garrison kept up a hot fire. No Indians
dared venture too close to the fort and
after about an hour had elapsed they turned
their attention to the horses. Robert, whose
porthole commanded a view of the spot where
the animals were huddled, was the first to observe
this move.
“They’re shooting at the horses,” he exclaimed
suddenly.
“What!” cried Joseph in alarm.
“They’re shooting at the horses,” repeated
Robert. “I suppose they are beginning to find
out that they can’t hurt us here in the fort.”
271“But The Swallow!” protested Joseph. “Suppose
they kill him. Can you see him from
there?”
“Yes,” said Robert, peering out cautiously.
“He’s almost in the center of the bunch and my
horse is right next to him. I can see John Mason’s
horse, too, but I don’t see Deerfoot’s anywhere.”
“Let me look,” begged Joseph. The thought
of harm coming to The Swallow cast a sudden
gloom over the young volunteer. He almost
forgot his own danger in the thought that he
might lose his wonderful pony. He was
prouder of The Swallow than of anything else
in his possession and the thought of being deprived
of his prize was almost more than he
could bear.
“He is right in the middle there,” he observed
after a hasty glance. As he looked,
however, a bullet struck a tall sorrel horse
stationed on the edge of the group and with a
scream of pain the animal reared and plunged.
The rest of the animals tugged at their bonds
and wild with fear made every effort to break
loose. Joseph was beside himself with anxiety.
“They won’t hit him,” observed Robert reassuringly.
272“There are a hundred horses in
that bunch and The Swallow is about the best
protected one of all. He was the first to arrive
so that all the others are grouped around him
and help to keep him covered.”
“If they shoot him I’ll kill every Indian Black
Hawk has!” exclaimed Joseph fiercely. “That
would be the last straw.”
“Kill ’em all anyway,” urged Robert. “That’s
our business just now and at present we’re not
attending to it.”
As Joseph turned away to resume his post
another bullet struck in the midst of the
group of horses. The animal collapsed almost
instantly and once more all the others were
thrown into confusion. It was a horrible sight
to see the poor dumb brutes, almost crazy with
fright, and yet unable to do one thing to help
themselves. They kicked and reared and
plunged and many of them were hurt. The Indians
were quick to observe the damage they
were inflicting and soon much of their fire was
concentrated on the horses. Already ten animals
had been shot.
“Quite a large number of Indians have been
killed I think,” remarked John Mason to Joseph
273when he resumed his place at his porthole.
“Think they’ll last much longer?”
“No, I don’t. The very fact that they have
turned their attention to the horses shows that
they haven’t much hope of taking the blockhouse.”
“I wish they’d leave soon,” exclaimed Joseph.
“I’m afraid they’re going to shoot The Swallow
unless they stop firing at the horses pretty
quick.”
“The only way you can stop them is to make
it so hot for them they’ll have to leave,” observed
Mason.
“I might go out and bring him inside,” said
Joseph eagerly. “Do you think I could get him
out of that bunch of horses?”
“No, I don’t,” replied Mason shortly. “As
long as I have an ounce of strength left in my
body, I’ll use it to prevent you from doing anything
so foolish, too.”
“Look there,” cried Robert suddenly. He
hurried up to the spot where Joseph and John
Mason were, and pointed eagerly out of one of
the portholes.
CHAPTER XXV ON THE TRAIL
274
“There they go!” exclaimed Robert triumphantly.
“They’ve had enough.”
“So have I,” cried Joseph, with a great sigh
of relief. “I thought that at any moment The
Swallow was going to be shot.”
“He has run that chance ever since you’ve
had him,” remarked Mason. “Every time
you’ve been in a fight your horse has been in
danger of being killed.”
“I know it,” said Joseph. “At the same time
they haven’t been turning all their attention to
him.”
“They’re going now, anyway,” remarked
Robert. “We’ve made it too hot for them, I
guess. We seem to be pretty good men to defend
blockhouses, don’t we? What do you say
to our hiring ourselves out for that purpose
all along the frontier?”
275“You’d better clear them out of this neighborhood
before you start in anywhere else,
Red,” cautioned Mason.
“They are clearing out of here now,” replied
Robert. “Just look out of that porthole and
you can see them going.”
What Robert said was true. Black Hawk had
drawn off his forces and could now be seen leading
his warriors in retreat across the prairie.
His attempt to take the blockhouse had resulted
in absolute failure, but five white men were
dead as a result of his visit. One of the five
was Walt and his loss was keenly felt by his
companions.
“Poor old Walt,” exclaimed Joseph sorrowfully.
“I’m sorry he had to go.”
“He died a soldier’s death, though,” said Robert.
“I’d like to get a shot at the Indian that
killed him; also at those demons who stabbed
and mutilated the bodies out there on the
prairie.”
“Look here, boys,” observed John Mason
quietly. “There is no use in talking about unpleasant
subjects. No one feels the loss of
Walt more than I. He was a good friend of
mine and I had known him for years. He died
276bravely but his death was only a part of the
game after all. I wish he was back, but wishing
won’t bring him. Talking and thinking
won’t do any good either and I say we try to
forget about it. It seems to me that is the most
sensible thing for us to do.”
“I guess you’re right,” agreed Joseph. “It
makes one feel badly, though.”
“Of course it does,” said Mason. “There is
work for us to do just now, though, and because
we try to forget Walt’s loss doesn’t mean that
we don’t feel badly.”
So Walt died and passed out of the lives of
his comrades. He had his faults like all of us,
but he had had many good points as well. We
are all doomed to be forgotten, but if we can
make the world and the people in it a little bit
better or happier for our having lived here, we
can count our lives successful. All who knew
Walt agreed that his had been a successful life.
That evening General Posey arrived at Kellogg’s
Grove with his brigade. Scouts reported
that Black Hawk’s party were encamped only
a short distance away, but for some reason it
was not deemed advisable to attack him.
“It seems silly to me,” exclaimed Robert
277hotly. “Here we have a lot of reinforcements
and a fine chance to strike a heavy blow. The
Indians are probably all tired out after their
fight and we might even be able to capture Black
Hawk himself. It seems to me an opportunity
to break the back of the war right now.”
“You may be right,” admitted Joseph. “At
the same time you must remember that these
men probably know more about fighting than
we do, and we are in no position to criticize.”
“Maybe so,” growled Robert. “I must say it
doesn’t seem like good sense to me, though.”
No attack was made, however, and a few days
later the two brothers, together with John Mason
and the faithful Deerfoot were once more
at Dixon’s Ferry. They were now attached to
the spy battalion of General James D. Henry’s
brigade. General Henry had been lieutenant-colonel
of Fry’s rangers when the four friends
had first attached themselves to that body after
Major Stillman’s defeat. Colonel Fry still held
command of the spy battalion, however.
Since the defeat at Sycamore Creek a large
army had been gathered by the Whites who were
determined to end the war as soon as possible.
Including the regulars there were now about
278four thousand effective troops in the field.
Most of these had assembled at Fort Wilburn,
on the Illinois River, south of Dixon’s Ferry.
One brigade under General Alexander was dispatched
post haste to Plum River, a spot not
far from Kellogg’s Grove, as soon as news of
the fight at the latter place was received. It
was thought that Black Hawk might attempt
to cross the Mississippi at this point and it
was Alexander’s mission to prevent this.
Black Hawk did not try to cross the great
river just then, however. Instead he turned
north once more and went into camp near Lake
Koshkonong near the head waters of the Rock
River. Learning of this, General Atkinson at
once left Dixon’s Ferry and advanced up the
east bank of the Rock River in pursuit of the
Indians. The start was made on June twenty-seventh,
the main army now consisting of four
hundred regulars and twenty-one hundred volunteer
troops.
“We’re off,” cried Robert enthusiastically, as
the army filed out of the little settlement at
Dixon’s Ferry and started up the bank of the
river. “We’ll finish up the war this time. Just
look at all the men we have.”
279“It does look like a real army, doesn’t it?”
exclaimed Joseph.
Like some great serpent the army filed out of
Dixon’s Ferry. The two brothers being attached
to the scout battalion were near the
front, and in back of them the troops stretched
out in a long line as far as the eye could see.
There was little of the bravado and recklessness
that had inspired Major Stillman’s men when
they had started from this same spot some six
weeks before. Bitter and costly experience had
taught the men that over-confidence is a poor
quality for any soldier to possess. A quiet determination
showed on every countenance now.
This army had made up its mind to win and
Black Hawk would soon realize that every member
meant business.
Behind the troops came the baggage and supply
wagons. A mass of dust from the hoofs of
hundreds of horses rose in a cloud about the
army and only an occasional glimpse of the
baggage train could be had. Every once in a
while the cloud lifted momentarily, however,
and the drivers could be seen urging their
horses on to keep pace with the others.
“Where’s Deerfoot?” exclaimed Robert suddenly.
280“I haven’t seen him once since yesterday.”
“You don’t mean to say you don’t know where
he is?” said Joseph in surprise.
“No. I’ve been so busy the last twenty-four
hours that I never missed him. I just this minute
noticed that he was gone.”
“Deerfoot is the proudest Indian in North
America today, I guess,” laughed John Mason,
who rode alongside his young friends.
“Why?” demanded Robert. “Tell me what
all the mystery is about.”
“There’s no mystery at all,” replied Joseph.
“This is what happened. Yesterday a Pottowattomie
came into camp and reported that
seventy-five warriors of his tribe were encamped
at Sycamore Creek who wanted to join forces
with us. They seemed to think that this was a
fine chance to get revenge on their old enemies,
the Sacs, and they were very anxious to get in
the fight. Some men of our battalion were sent
on ahead to tell them it was all right and Deerfoot
of course went with them. You ought to
have seen him. Why, he was almost enthusiastic.”
“You can’t tell me he showed it, though,”
281laughed Robert. “When are we going to meet
these Pottowattomies?”
“Tonight, I think.”
“That’s fine,” exclaimed Robert heartily. “I
can just see Deerfoot riding at the head of
seventy-five of his own people. He’ll be so
puffed up that he probably won’t deign to speak
to us.”
“Not as bad as that I think,” said Joseph
laughingly. “They’ll be a great addition to our
forces, though. They know the country better
than any of our men and they are good fighters,
too.”
“They are if they are anything like Deerfoot,”
agreed Mason. “He is about the best I ever
saw.”
All day long the army continued its march.
A halt for dinner was made at noon and shortly
afterward the advance was continued. No sign
of the enemy was discovered and at night they
went into camp on the old battle ground at
Sycamore Creek. Shortly before, they had
passed the ravine where Joseph had hidden
from the Indians during the disastrous route
after that fight. He also recognized the spot
where he had had the encounter with the Indian
282and had captured The Swallow. A thrill ran
up and down his spine at the remembrance of
these events and he shuddered to think how
easily the tide might have turned the other way
and his life been forfeited as had Walt’s only
a few days before.
Camp was pitched in a heavy growth of timber
and breastworks thrown up. Sentinels
were posted and every precaution taken against
a surprise attack.
Soon after the army’s arrival Deerfoot came
in with his seventy-five tribesmen. They were
given a hearty welcome by the troops and were
assigned to Colonel Fry’s brigade. Thus the
scout battalion, of which John Mason and Joseph
and Robert were members, now contained
not only one fearless Indian ally, but seventy-five
more of the same kind. Deerfoot, in spite
of the fact that many of his own people were
now with the army, still chose to camp with
his two young white friends.
“Wouldn’t you rather be with the rest of
your people?” Joseph inquired of him. He
thought that perhaps Deerfoot had joined him
and his brother for fear they might feel hurt.
“Me stay with you,” replied Deerfoot quietly.
283No urging could induce him to leave, and Joseph
and Robert soon gave up trying.
“I believe he’d rather be with you boys than
his own people anyway,” John Mason remarked
to Joseph a short time later.
“I guess he would,” agreed Joseph. “He is
certainly a good friend of ours. He is a fine
character, too, and I can tell you that Bob and
I appreciate his affection.”
The next day the march was continued. On
the thirtieth they crossed the Illinois-Wisconsin
border where the Turtle village of the
Winnebagos stood. The place was deserted,
however, for the inhabitants had fled at the approach
of the army.
Sac signs were fresh now, for Black Hawk
had fled from Kellogg’s Grove directly for his
stronghold, reaching the Rock River just above
the mouth of the Kishwaukee only three or four
days in advance of the White army. The trail
was warm and the troops were following it with
the determination and eagerness of bloodhounds.
Every night a camp was selected, in the timber
if possible, and the men slept on their arms.
There was constant fear of a night attack, for
284so close had General Atkinson pressed the fleeing
Sacs that often they came in contact with
the rear guard of the savages. Several times
sentinels had been fired on.
On the second of July the army arrived at
the outlet of Lake Koshkonong. Indian camps
were found, all presenting the appearance of
having been hastily deserted. Tepees stood
empty and household goods had been abandoned
by the Indians in their eagerness to leave.
“Look there,” exclaimed Robert as he and
some of the scouts rode into the largest of these
camps.
Hanging from a pole of one of the tepees
were five newly taken scalps. White scalps
they were which had been stretched on frames
to dry.
“All I can say is,” remarked one grizzled old
ranger, “that them Indians must have been in
a powerful big hurry or they never would have
left them things behind.”
“We’ll catch up with them soon,” cried Robert
eagerly. “It can’t be too soon to suit me
either.”
CHAPTER XXVI THROUGH THE SWAMPS
285
Robert had maintained that they would
soon overtake Black Hawk, but such
did not prove to be the case. Winnebagos had
come into camp with information that they
knew where Black Hawk was located and their
offers to guide the troops to the spot had been
accepted. As a consequence many days were
wasted in running wild goose chases through
the treacherous swamps and sink holes of that
region. The Winnebagos had been constantly
endeavoring to lead the army into a trap and
only their good fortune had saved them from
destruction more than once.
“I’m getting discouraged,” exclaimed Robert
in despair. A week had been spent in following
false clues, none of which had proved of
any value.
286“Don’t get discouraged, Red,” urged John
Mason. “Better times are coming.”
“Maybe they are,” replied Robert disconsolately.
“Not many seem to think so, though.
Governor Reynolds left us this morning.”
“He did?”
“Yes, he did, and a lot of other officials went
with him. They think that the Indians have
taken to the swamps and that we’ll never get
them out.”
“I don’t think it’s as bad as that.”
“But so many of our men are sick,” protested
Robert. “This business of floundering around
in the marshes isn’t very healthy, you know.
We are almost out of provisions, too.”
“That’s the worst thing,” admitted Mason
reluctantly. “Our food supply is low, I guess.”
“It certainly is, from all I hear. Something
will have to be done soon.”
As he finished speaking Joseph approached.
He hurried along as if he had some important
news to communicate.
“What is it, Joe?” inquired Robert as his
brother drew near.
“We’re going to Fort Winnebago,” Joseph
announced.
287“To Fort Winnebago?” exclaimed John Mason.
“Why are we going there?”
“To get supplies.”
“Who is going?” demanded Robert, his spirits
immediately reviving at the prospect of an
expedition.
“Our brigade and General Alexander’s, and
Dodge’s squadron.”
“When do we start?”
“In an hour.”
“Good,” exclaimed Robert. “How about
Deerfoot? Is he going with us?”
“Yes, indeed. I just arranged it for him.
He thought he might be left behind and he
couldn’t stand the thought of being separated
from us.”
“How far is it to Fort Winnebago from
here?” Joseph inquired of John Mason.
“Nearly eighty miles, I should say.”
“What do we care?” cried Robert. “We’re
going to leave this hole and that is enough to
make me cheerful again.”
“You’ll strike worse holes than this on the
way to Fort Winnebago,” cautioned Mason.
“We may all wish we were back here again before
many days have passed.”
288“It’s a change anyway,” Robert persisted.
“That is the principal thing just at present.”
An hour later the start for Fort Winnebago
was made. The journey was a hard one and
it was with a great feeling of relief that the
troops finally reached their destination. At the
fort were many Winnebago Indians who were
eager to give advice to the white chiefs.
“No trust them,” said Deerfoot earnestly in
speaking of these offers. “They fool white men
too much already.”
“I wouldn’t trust them either,” exclaimed
Robert hotly. “It seems to me we ought to
know better by this time.”
The four scouts were seated together at one
end of the enclosure discussing the future plans
of the army. They were tired from their long
trip and as a consequence were low in spirits.
The rest of the men seemed to share their feelings
and many were anxious to give up the
struggle and go home.
“I don’t want to go home,” said Robert
warmly. “What I want to do is to find Black
Hawk, and find him soon too. I can’t help but
think that there is some way to do it.”
“If we only had a trustworthy guide,” said
289John Mason. “Some man who knows what he
is talking about and whose word can be relied
upon.”
“But where can we find such a man?” demanded
Joseph.
“I wish I knew,” exclaimed Mason.
“We can get supplies here,” remarked Joseph.
“That is some consolation anyway.”
“Yes, but a pretty poor one,” growled Robert.
“What we want is Black Hawk, not
supplies.”
“We must have supplies first though, Red,”
reminded Mason. “Don’t you know what I told
you the other day that no man can fight on an
empty stomach?”
“Nor without sleep either,” added Joseph.
“I’m going to bed.”
The fifteenth of July came and the troops
left Fort Winnebago. General Alexander’s
men insisted upon returning by the shortest
possible route to General Atkinson and the main
army. Consequently they set out with twelve
days’ provisions. Henry and Dodge, however,
had received a clue as to Black Hawk’s whereabouts
and decided to follow it.
At Fort Winnebago there was a famous halfbreed
290trader and scout named Pierre Paquette.
He had long been a trusted employee of the
American Fur Company and to all appearances
answered John Mason’s requirements of a man
whose word could be relied upon and who knew
what he was talking about. Paquette had informed
General Henry of the true location of
Black Hawk’s camp and with a dozen Winnebago
assistants was engaged to lead the army
there.
On July eighteenth they reached the village
where Black Hawk and his band had been quartered,
but the enemy had fled. The Winnebago
guides insisted, however, that the Sacs had just
gone to Cranberry Lake, a half-day’s march up
the Rock River. It was then noon and the commanders
decided to wait until the following
morning before proceeding. Camp was made
and the men settled down to wait until the next
day came.
Meanwhile two men, Adjutants Merriam and
Woodbridge, were dispatched to the south to
carry the news to General Atkinson. Little
Thunder, a Winnebago chief, went with them
to act as guide. Mounting their horses they
rode off, leaving behind them seven hundred
291and fifty very much disheartened and discouraged
troops.
“There’s nothing to do hut wait till morning,
I suppose,” exclaimed Robert peevishly. “It
seems as if we spent half our time in waiting.”
“You must be patient, Red,” advised John
Mason. “Surely you wouldn’t have us start for
Cranberry Lake now. Why, we’d just about
arrive there as it was growing dark; the Indians
would discover us and get away again.
They could easily escape us in the darkness.”
“That’s right, Bob,” agreed Joseph. “I think
we are doing just the right thing.”
“Probably we are,” admitted Robert. “I
guess I’m in too much of a hurry. Besides I
don’t like this business of having nothing to do.”
“Why don’t you look after your horse?” suggested
Joseph. “I’m going to give The Swallow
a good rub down this afternoon.”
“That’s a good scheme,” exclaimed Mason.
“Come on, Red. Come on, Deerfoot. We’ll all
go and do as Joe advises.”
The four friends were soon busied with their
horses, and being busy the afternoon soon
passed. Darkness approached by the time they
had finished and soon after supper they rolled
292themselves in their blankets and prepared for
sleep.
To the four tired volunteers it seemed as if
scarcely a half-hour had elapsed when they
were suddenly aroused from their slumbers.
The camp seemed to be in an uproar. Men ran
hither and thither. Loud commands were being
shouted and all was bustle and noise.
“What is it?” exclaimed Robert. “Are we
being attacked?”
“I don’t know,” replied his brother hastily.
“I guess not though, for I don’t hear any guns.
Let’s see what it is all about.”
Together with John Mason and Deerfoot
they hastened to headquarters.
“What’s all the excitement?” Robert inquired
eagerly of the first man they met.
“We’ve found him at last,” the man answered
gleefully.
“Found who? What do you mean?” demanded
Mason.
“Is Black Hawk captured?” exclaimed
Robert.
“Here’s what has happened,” said the man
quietly. “You know that Merriam and Woodbridge
started for General Atkinson’s camp
293with Little Thunder as a guide. Well, when
they had covered about twenty miles of the distance
they suddenly came upon a broad fresh
trail leading west. Little Thunder at once began
to wave his arms and shout, but the two
adjutants couldn’t understand a word of what
he said. Suddenly, however, he turned his
horse around and started at full speed back
over the way he had come. Woodbridge and
Merriam were afraid to go any farther without
a guide, so they had to follow Little Thunder.
They all got back here just a little while
ago, and it seems that they just happened to
stumble across Black Hawk’s trail.”
“Are we going to follow it as fast as we can?”
said Robert.
“Exactly,” agreed the man. “We start very
soon.”
“Hooray!” cried Robert, turning a full handspring
to show his approval of this move.
“We must get our horses and be ready to
start at once,” reminded Mason. “Let’s waste
no time.”
The news that the trail of Black Hawk had
been discovered was received with great joy
in the camp. The men were all eager to start
294and with rapidly rising spirits they awaited the
order to move. More enthusiasm was shown
by the troops than they had displayed at any
time up to the present. If it was fighting and
danger they wanted there would be no cause
for their enthusiasm to lag again either. At
last the preparations had been all made and
General Henry drew his men up in order to
address a few words of advice to them.
“We have at last struck the right track,” he
said. “The trail is fresh and we must follow
it like hounds on the scent. We have reason to
believe that our enemies are sorely pressed for
food. That fact will help us, but we must take
quick advantage of it. We must strike before
Black Hawk can secure supplies and consequently
our watchword must be ‘speed.’ We
must sacrifice everything to speed and to that
end I charge you men to discard every article
that is not absolutely essential to you. We
must not be weighted down with unnecessary
baggage. I have confidence in you all and I
know that every man can be counted on to the
utmost.”
This speech of General Henry’s was greeted
with wild cheering and every man immediately
295did as he had been advised. Blankets, cooking
utensils, and all sorts and kinds of camp equipage
were thrown aside. Ammunition and a
scanty supply of food was all that the men
retained.
The word to advance was given and the army
moved forward. What had been a band of discouraged
and gloomy men was now a body of
spirited and eager soldiers. Every man realized
that at last they were not following a
will-o’-the-wisp, but a certainty. They knew
that Black Hawk was not far away now and
that if they tried hard enough they could probably
overtake him. They were all determined
to do their utmost.
“What an awful country!” exclaimed Robert,
when they were a few miles out from camp.
“Is the whole region filled with swamps and
sink holes like this?”
“Pretty much so, I’m afraid,” replied Mason.
“It makes the traveling pretty hard, doesn’t
it?”
“I should say so,” agreed Joseph. “The men
don’t seem to mind it though. Just look at
them! They look like a lot of schoolboys out
for a picnic.”
296“They’re on the trail of big game now,” said
Mason. “Nothing else matters. We cannot be
so far away from it, either,” he added. “Just
look there.”
CHAPTER XXVII WISCONSIN HEIGHTS
297
The object to which John Mason pointed
was not very startling in itself. It seemed
entirely harmless and innocent as it lay on a
tuft of grass beside a large tree. It was an
earthen pot like many that were used by the
Indians in their camps.
“You see they are beginning to throw away
their own belongings,” exclaimed Mason.
“They must know we are close behind them
and are trying to make time.”
“There are some blankets too,” cried Robert.
“They evidently don’t intend to carry any more
weight than necessary.”
The trail was soon littered with baggage and
paraphernalia of all kinds. Everything pointed
to the fact that the Indians were now in dire
straits. The troops pushed on eagerly, every
298man spurred forward by the knowledge that
their opponents were weakened and must soon
be overtaken. Nature seemed to impose almost
every difficulty imaginable in the way of the
pursuers, but nothing discouraged the men any
more. Frequently it became necessary to dismount
and wade in mud and water shoulder
deep. A violent thunder storm and cloudburst
struck the little army, but undismayed they
fought their way along.
“There’s an Indian!” exclaimed Joseph suddenly.
“Where?” cried Robert excitedly. The two
boys were in advance of the others, for their
knowledge of woodcraft learned from Deerfoot
had enabled them slightly to outdistance the
rest of the army.
“Just ahead there,” said Joseph quickly as
he raised his gun to fire.
“Wait, Joe,” cried Robert. “He’s holding up
his hands.”
The Indian was seated on a pony, and, as
Robert had said, was holding up his hands in
token of surrender. Joseph quickly lowered his
rifle.
“A Winnebago,” announced Joseph, when he
299had obtained a closer glimpse of the red man.
“We’d better wait for the others,” advised
Robert. “He probably can’t speak English and
we can’t find out what he wants.”
Several soldiers soon joined the brothers,
among them a man who understood the Winnebago
tongue. He shouted to the Indian and
learned that he was a deserter from Black Hawk
and wished to join the Whites. The interpreter
questioned him closely and upon relating what
had been said to General Henry, the Winnebago
was given permission to attach himself
to the army.
“Who was he? What did he say?” Robert
demanded of Deerfoot, who was now riding
with the two boys and John Mason.
“He Winnebago,” replied Deerfoot. “He say
Black Hawk only two miles away, and much
weary.”
“Hooray!” cried Robert excitedly. “We’ll
catch him soon.”
The news had spread throughout the army,
spurring the men on to even greater efforts
than before.
“We won’t catch them tonight, I’m afraid,”
remarked Mason. “It will be dark before long.”
300“It always gets dark just at the wrong time,”
Robert complained.
“How are you going to prevent it, Red?”
laughed Mason.
“I’m not going to prevent it,” replied Robert.
“It is certainly tough luck the way it always
happens like this, though.”
“We’ll camp soon, I think,” said Mason.
“We must be almost at the lakes by this time,
and it is nearly sunset.”
“What lakes?” inquired Joseph.
“The Four Lakes,” explained Mason. “You’ll
see them yourself in a minute.”
“I hope they’re better looking than the rest
of this country,” exclaimed Robert.
“Don’t worry about that,” Mason assured
him. “You’ll never see anything prettier than
these lakes as long as you live.”
As he finished speaking they emerged from
the swamp, passed through a belt of heavy
timber and came to the edge of a lake. The
water was clear as crystal and the bottom was
covered with shining white pebbles.
“This is Third Lake,” announced Mason.
“What do you think of it?”
“Wonderful!” exclaimed Robert and Joseph
301in amazement as they looked out across the
beautiful sheet of water. The sun was sinking
low in the western sky and its rays cast a gleam
of silver and gold over the quiet waters. As
the rest of the army came up, every man stood
in silence and looked out over the lake, almost
too strongly impressed to speak.
“How big is this lake?” inquired Robert at
last.
“About ten miles around, I should say.
Fourth Lake is about twice the size.”
War and strife were forgotten for a few moments
under the spell of this beautiful scene.
The silence did not long continue, however, for
the order to camp here for the night was soon
given and preparations were made at once.
Scouts came in and reported Indians but a few
miles away, but nothing happened to disturb
the encampment during the night. The next
morning at daybreak the men were up and once
more on the march.
Across the isthmus between Third and Fourth
Lakes swept the army. Joseph, Robert, Mason
and Deerfoot rode in front with Ewing’s spy
battalion and soon picked up the trail. It was
easy to follow and more and more evidences of
302the desperation of the Sacs came into view.
Apparently the Indians were discarding everything
but their firearms.
In desperate haste the army advanced. Several
horses gave out, but the troopers thus
deprived of their mounts kept on on foot, not
one whit discouraged by their mishaps.
Several Indians were shot. They were all
old men who were exhausted by hunger and
unable to keep pace with the rest of their band.
The morning passed and noon came. With undiminished
speed the army pressed forward.
At about half-past four in the afternoon the
Indians were sighted. They had taken up their
position on the bluffs about a mile and a half
from the Wisconsin River.
“Halt!” came the sharp command. “Dismount!”
A moment later the army was on
foot, awaiting the next order. This soon came,
and the men were instructed to form in line
and prepare to charge. One man out of every
four was delegated to hold the horses.
Scarcely had the army time to do as they
were commanded when the Sacs themselves
charged. Yelling like madmen they rushed
down upon the Whites. A heavy volley from
303their guns failed to break the lines of the troops,
however, and the fire was returned spiritedly.
“Let ’em have it! Give it to them!” cried
Robert enthusiastically.
“Charge!” came the order.
With a cheer the men advanced. They returned
the galling fire of the Indians with
deadly effect, but their foes were not lacking in
valor.
“Keep low and close to me, Bob,” warned
Joseph as they hurried forward.
“I’m all right, Joe,” cried Robert. “Forget
me and give all your attention to those red
demons over there.”
The fire of the Whites was most effective and
the Indians appeared to be giving way.
“They’re running,” shouted Robert. “Keep
right after them.”
Apparently what Robert had said was true.
The Indians did seem to be leaving their positions,
but they certainly were not retreating,
as subsequent events soon proved.
“We’ve got ’em!” cried Robert, who was almost
beside himself with excitement. “We’ve
got ’em now, and now’s the time to finish them
up.”
304“Don’t expose yourself too much, Red,” cautioned
Mason, who kept close beside the two
young brothers. Robert was absolutely regardless
of danger and ran forward fearlessly, with
no thought other than to load and fire his rifle
as many times as possible.
“They can’t——”
“Look out!” cried Mason, breaking in on what
Robert had started to say.
“What is it?” shouted Joseph in response to
Mason’s warning.
“They’re trying to flank us.”
“Where are they?”
As he spoke the sharp bark of several rifles
sounded from some very tall grass on one side
of the battlefield. The Indians who had apparently
retreated, as a matter of fact had stolen
around and into the grass where they opened
a heavy fire on the Whites. For a moment the
army was taken by surprise, but it did not last
long. Quick action was needed and quick action
was taken, and luckily too. Had the Indians
succeeded in getting behind the Whites they
could have caused enormous damage.
“Charge them!” shouted General Henry.
The command was instantly obeyed. With
305bayonets bared and with cheers and shouts the
white men bravely dashed forward. The troops
may have displayed cowardice in some of the
previous engagements of the war, but they were
redeeming themselves now. Fearlessly and
gallantly they rushed at top speed to dislodge
the enemy from his position.
“There is no load in my gun, Bob,” shouted
Joseph.
“Nor in mine,” echoed John Mason.
“You don’t need it,” cried Robert. “We’ll
chase ’em out of there with our fists if we
haven’t anything else. My gun is loaded, but
I don’t need it.”
A galling fire greeted their advance and several
of the men dropped. The volley was returned
but feebly, for most of the men were
in the condition of Joseph and John Mason;
that is, their guns were empty. No one halted
for a second, however; all increased their pace.
“I’ll save my load,” thought Robert to himself.
“I may need it more in a few minutes
than I do now.”
At this moment a man on a gray horse dashed
madly past him. Robert recognized the rider
as Colonel Jones, one of the officers. As he
306glanced up at the fearless rider a bullet struck
the horse, killing it instantly. Colonel Jones
was pitched headlong to the ground and Robert
rushed to see if he was hurt.
“Were you hit, Colonel?” he demanded anxiously.
“Never touched me,” came the quick reply,
and instantly jumping to his feet the gallant
officer continued the advance. “Follow me!” he
shouted, and with a cheer the men closed in
behind him.
Absolutely regardless of consequences, fearlessly
the men charged. The grass which the
Indians occupied was at least six feet tall, a
fact which rendered it very difficult for the
Whites to see their opponents. Not one man
faltered, however.
Soon they came to the edge of the grass and
a desperate hand to hand encounter took place.
Stabbing with their bayonets and using the butt
ends of their guns the white soldiers slowly but
surely forced their redskinned foes to fall
back. Every inch of ground was contested
stubbornly and desperately. The men became
separated from one another and individual combats
took place everywhere.
307Robert had forced his way clear through to
the opposite side of the high grass and emerged
into the open. As he came out he saw a white
man suddenly trip and fall headlong to the
ground. With a howl of rage a painted warrior
sprang at the fallen soldier with upraised
tomahawk.
Robert’s heart almost stopped beating when
he suddenly recognized the prostrate man as
his brother Joseph.
CHAPTER XXVIII THE TRAIL LEADS WESTWARD
308
There was not a second to lose. The Indian
would surely be upon Joseph before
he could raise himself from his fallen position
and even should he be able to get up he would
stand no chance of escape. If Joseph’s life
was to be saved, it was Robert who must do it.
But how was it to be done? He had fired the
charge which had been in his gun and he had
had no chance to reload. The bloodthirsty Sac
was nearer to Joseph than he, and would evidently
reach the spot first. The case looked
desperate.
All of this happened in the twinkling of an
eye. Robert rather felt than thought these
things as he saw the Indian rushing toward
his helpless brother. “The only relative I have
left in the world,” thought Robert as, with a
309choking cry, he started forward. Glory was
forgotten. Bravery was forgotten. The impulsive
young pioneer remembered only that
his brother was in terrible and immediate
danger.
The Indian was now about ten yards from
Joseph, who was striving desperately to regain
his feet. Robert was at least twenty yards distant.
He shouted to Joseph, but Joseph had
already seen the Sac approaching and was
doing his utmost to get out of the way. Robert’s
cry did not warn him of his peril, but only
served to bring a faint ray of hope into his
mind that he might yet escape.
Robert saw instantly that it was out of the
question for him to reach his brother before
the Indian would be upon him. He stopped
and started to swing his rifle about his head
with some hazy idea of throwing it at his enemy.
Before he could put this plan into execution,
however, a strange thing occurred. Something
flashed in the rays of the afternoon sun and
with a cry the onrushing Indian suddenly threw
up his hands and pitched forward, stumbling
and tripping until he fell to the ground limp
and helpless.
310A tomahawk coming from some place in the
tall grass had struck the Sac warrior full in
the forehead and put an end to his fighting forever.
So suddenly and so unexpectedly had
this fortunate event taken place that neither
of the two boys realized for a few moments
just what had occurred. Joseph sank back
upon the ground and Robert merely stood with
open mouth and a dazed expression on his face,
staring stupidly at the dead form of the Indian
at his feet.
The mystery was not long unsolved, however.
The tall grass parted and out stepped Deerfoot,
as calm and stoical as ever, his face as expressionless
as a statue.
“So you did it, did you?” exclaimed Robert
as soon as he found his voice.
“Deerfoot!” cried Joseph and the young soldier
could say no more.
The Pottowattomie paid no attention to either
of the boys. He picked up his tomahawk which
now was lying upon the ground, and then advanced
to the spot where the body of his fallen
enemy lay. Without a word he whipped out his
knife and soon possessed himself of another Sac
scalp. The two brothers looked on in silence.
311“How can I ever thank you?” cried Joseph,
walking up to Deerfoot.
“No try.”
“But, Deerfoot, you saved my life,” protested
Joseph, tears of gratitude appearing in his
eyes as he spoke.
“Why not save life?” demanded Deerfoot
simply. “You my brother. Me always save
brother’s life.” He extended his hand to Joseph,
who grasped it in silence. Then the
Pottowattomie turned to Robert and also shook
hands with him.
This solemn rite having been performed, the
three brothers turned their attention to the
fight. For a time they had been oblivious to
everything but their own affairs. The fight was
ended, however. The Indians had been driven
from their positions and now occupied a piece
of rising ground overlooking the Wisconsin
River.
They remained in that place only a short
time, however, for the troops pursued them relentlessly.
The Sacs fired a few more shots
from the top of the rise and then turned and
retreated swiftly down the bluffs to join the
main body, which was engaged in crossing the
312river. The troops soon occupied the bluffs, and
further pursuit was considered useless.
Between the army and the river was a
swampy bit of ground, some sixty yards wide.
On the river bank was a heavy growth of timber.
The white commanders seeing that the
Indians could reach this protection before being
overtaken decided to give up the chase for
the night.
“A few more battles like that and the war
will soon be over,” remarked Robert enthusiastically,
when camp had been pitched.
“Yes,” agreed Mason. “They seem to be on
the run now all right.”
“I’m glad I was in it,” exclaimed Robert. “It
is a pleasanter sensation to be the one to do
the winning than it is to have to run away.
Until now we have been mostly on the defensive.”
“I’m glad I was in it, too,” said Joseph
quietly. “I’m more than glad to be here right
now though. If it hadn’t been for Deerfoot
I’d have been dead.”
“There’s no doubt of that,” agreed Robert
heartily. “Deerfoot,” he added, “you are a
hero. Get up and make a bow.”
313“No bow,” said Deerfoot. He shifted his
position uncomfortably and was much embarrassed
by these remarks of Robert’s. He did
not desire praise for doing what he considered
merely his duty.
Robert loved to tease his red brother, however,
and seeing how uncomfortable his words
made Deerfoot he decided to continue them.
“You must make a bow, Deerfoot,” he continued.
“Whenever a man saves another’s life
he always has to make a bow.”
“No bow,” protested Deerfoot, looking about
for some avenue of escape.
“Of course not,” exclaimed Joseph, coming
to the rescue of the embarrassed Pottowattomie.
“Don’t pay any attention to what he says,
Deerfoot.”
The army turned in and soon most of the
men were asleep. Everyone slept on his arms,
for the region was infested with prowling Indians
and no one wished to be taken unawares
by a sudden attack. No incident of note occurred,
however, until just about an hour and
a half before the dawn of the following day.
Joseph, naturally a light sleeper, awoke with
a start. He had a strange feeling that someone
314had been talking to him. He sat up and looked
about him. The stars were out and the camp
was dimly illuminated by their ghostlike light.
“I must have been dreaming,” thought Joseph.
Suddenly he realized that he had not been
dreaming after all. A voice, loud, shrill, and
speaking in an unknown tongue could be heard
distinctly. The sound came from the direction
of the knoll, which Black Hawk, seated on a
white pony, had occupied during the battle.
“Wake up, Bob,” exclaimed Joseph excitedly.
He shook his brother, who was instantly wide
awake and on his feet. The rest of the camp
was soon aroused and a great panic ensued.
The strange voice continued to be heard and
nearly every man present thought it was merely
a prelude to a great attack on the part of the
Indians.
“What is it, do you suppose?” exclaimed
Robert in alarm.
“I’m sure I can’t tell you,” replied Mason.
“It is certainly strange.”
“Let’s fire a volley in that direction,” cried
Robert eagerly. “Perhaps if we do that it will
show them we are prepared and they will be
scared off.”
315“Don’t be silly,” exclaimed Joseph in alarm.
“At any rate we couldn’t fire without orders.”
“Isn’t it weird?” said Mason.
The harangue continued uninterruptedly
while the army sat and quaked with fear. At
any moment the men expected to be set upon
by a band of bloodthirsty Sacs. Some of the
more timid were in favor of decamping at once.
So great was the alarm in the camp that General
Henry found it necessary to deliver a
patriotic speech to rally the sinking spirits of
his men.
“Don’t you understand what the voice is saying,
Deerfoot?” inquired John Mason at last.
“Me no understand,” answered Deerfoot, and
in fact he was apparently just as much puzzled
as all the others at the strange performance.
Suddenly the harangue ceased. For over an
hour it had continued without interruption, but
just before daylight the speaker stopped talking
and the voice was heard no more. Until
broad daylight appeared the army anxiously
awaited the expected attack. It did not come,
however. Scouts could discover no Indians in
the neighborhood and the purpose of the harangue
remained as great a mystery as ever.
316On the twenty-third of July, General Henry’s
corps set out for Blue Mounds to secure provisions.
Mason, Joseph, Robert and Deerfoot
went with this detachment and arriving there
that evening were joined by Generals Atkinson
and Alexander. The two commanders had
heard of the rapid pursuit of Black Hawk and
had hastily set out from Lake Koshkonong to
join the victorious army.
General Atkinson at once assumed command
of all the forces collected at Blue Mounds. He
distributed rations and ordered the pursuit at
once to be resumed. The army departed and
during the days of July twenty-seventh and
twenty-eighth crossed the Wisconsin River.
Rafts, made from the log houses at the deserted
village of Helena, carried the army across the
stream. The advance was continued and General
Henry’s brigade was ordered to bring up
the rear in charge of the baggage.
“Why do you suppose they put us back here?”
exclaimed Robert hotly. “We have done most
of the fighting and this is our reward. Now
if we catch up with Black Hawk again those
others will have first chance and will get all the
glory. We’ll be left out of it almost entirely.”
317“You just said why it was done,” remarked
John Mason quietly.
“No, I asked why it was done,” corrected
Robert.
“You said we had done most of the fighting
so far,” explained Mason. “That, to my mind,
is why we are stationed back here.”
“What do you mean?” demanded Joseph,
greatly puzzled by his friend’s remark.
“Simply this: General Henry has gotten
what little glory there has been to get in this
war. The others are jealous of him and jealous
of the way he won the battle at Wisconsin
Heights. They think that the next fight will
put an end to the war and they don’t intend
that General Henry shall get any credit for that,
if they can help it.”
“Is that really so?” exclaimed Robert.
“I’m sure of it,” replied Mason. “I shouldn’t
like to be quoted as saying so, though.”
“It’s a pretty mean trick, I should say,” cried
Robert. “I hope General Henry will fool them.
He has three hundred men in his brigade, and
if I were in his place I’d take them and go off
on my own hook. We’ve got enough here to
defeat all Black Hawk can put in the field.”
318“General Henry must obey orders, Red,” reminded
Mason. He smiled at the boy’s impetuosity,
and, though he concealed it, had
somewhat the same feeling that Robert had.
Five or six miles northeast of Helena the
trail was discovered leading westward toward
the Mississippi. The country it traversed was
rugged and unfamiliar to the Whites. Their
Indian guides were scarcely better acquainted
with it and evidently Black Hawk had chosen
this route to retard the progress of the white
army and give his people more time to escape.
Great swamps loomed up before the army.
Rushing rivers had to be crossed, while thickly
wooded hills constantly imposed themselves
between the Whites and the fleeing redskins.
The trail grew constantly fresher, however, and
this fact spurred the men on. Corpses of dead
Sacs strewed the pathway; some had died of
wounds and some of starvation. Dead ponies,
the flesh partly eaten from their sides, and the
half-chewed pieces of bark showed how desperately
in need of food the Indians were.
On the night of August first an old Sac Indian
was captured. Unable to keep pace with
the main body he had been abandoned. The
319army was now about ten miles from the Mississippi
and from the captured Indian it was
learned that Black Hawk intended to cross the
great river early the following day. General
Atkinson’s army was nearly exhausted from its
recent exertions and he decided that a few
hours’ rest was absolutely necessary for his
men. Accordingly, a halt was called about
eight o’clock of the evening of August first,
and orders given to proceed at two o’clock the
following morning.
At that hour the bugles sounded and the army
once more was soon on the march. A grim
spirit of determination filled the men and they
were eager for the fray.
“I wish we were in front,” complained Robert
as they started out.
“Don’t worry, Red,” advised Mason. “I have
a feeling that we’ll get all the fighting we want,
all right.”
“Look at Deerfoot,” directed Joseph in a low
voice.
The Pottowattomie rode proudly forward,
his head held high and a gleam in his eyes that
boded ill for his enemies. His attitude reflected
that of the whole army.
CHAPTER XXIX BAD AXE
320
Suddenly shots were heard. A bugle
sounded and the men realized that the deciding
struggle of the war had commenced.
Orders were at once given for the army to form
for the attack. An orderly came riding furiously
through the lines with orders from General
Atkinson. Alexander and Posey with their
commands formed the right wing, Dodge with
his regulars the center, and General Henry the
left.
The firing increased. Dense timber afforded
a protection to the Sacs and hindered the operations
of the army. An advance was ordered,
however, and the Indians withdrew slowly.
Their fire seemed to come from a wide range of
ground and it was confidently believed that now
the main body of Black Hawk’s force had been
321encountered. Upstream the Indians retreated.
A proof of John Mason’s remark as to the
jealousy borne General Henry was provided by
the commands which next were issued. The
right wing and the center were ordered to pursue
the savages. General Henry, however, received
no orders at all and so was apparently
left out of the fight entirely. This was evidently
part of a plan to deprive him of any share in
the honor which everyone felt was to be won in
this fight.
“A mean shame!” protested John Mason
hotly. “I knew they were going to try something
like this all the time.”
“I should say it is a shame!” cried Robert
angrily. “Why should we stand for it?”
“What can we do?” queried Joseph. “We are
left here with no orders. Certainly if they
wanted us they would have asked us to come.”
“Well then, if we have no orders why can’t
we go anywhere we please?” Robert protested.
“I’d follow along if I were General Henry.”
“We can’t do that,” said Mason. “I guess
we’re left.”
Henry’s brigade was stationed on the top of
a bluff, not far from the river.
322Sounds of firing came to the men left there
and a feeling of intense rage at the affront offered
them possessed everyone present. For
days and weeks they had fought their way
through countless difficulties and had endured
untold hardships. Now that the prize was almost
in their grasp they were denied any share
in it.
Suddenly two men on horseback appeared,
riding furiously from the direction of the river.
“Two of Ewing’s spy battalion,” announced
Joseph, as he recognized the men. “I wonder
what they want.”
The horsemen at once sought General Henry
and excitedly began to talk and gesticulate to
him. They continually pointed toward the
river in the direction whence they had come.
As they finished speaking, General Henry drew
his sword, waved it above his head and gave
the order to advance.
“What is it? What’s going on?” demanded
Robert.
Many more were asking the same questions
and the answers were not long in forthcoming.
The spies had discovered that the main trail
was farther down the river than the course of
323the Indians pursued by the center and right
wing. Evidently the Sacs first encountered
were merely decoys who were purposely attempting
to lead the army astray.
“What luck!” cried Robert joyously. “They
tried to leave us out but we stumbled into the
main affair after all.”
Down the steep sides of the bluff General
Henry led his troops. Arriving at the base,
the men found themselves on a wooded plateau
which stretched between the bluff and the shore.
On the other side of the timber, Black Hawk
was stationed.
A bullet tore some leaves from a tree close to
Joseph’s head. A second bullet followed the
first and soon a perfect hail of lead was cutting
its way through the forest. The trooper next
to Deerfoot had his horse shot from under him.
The bugle sounded and with a shout the men
dashed forward. Over dead logs, under low
hanging branches and through thick clumps of
bushes they forced their way. A galling fire
raked their lines from end to end but not a man
faltered.
As yet no sight of the Indians appeared.
That they were present was testified to, however,
324by the energetic fusillade they kept up.
Suddenly the woods thinned and the brigade
found itself in the midst of about three hundred
warriors. The numbers on each side consequently
were even.
Savage yells and whoops rent the air. Mixed
with these were the cheers and shouts of the
troops who urged one another forward. No
man needed much urging, however, for everyone
was there to do his duty and it was done
with no thought of flinching.
“Dismount!” came the order from the bugle.
Instantly every man sprang from his horse’s
back, and quickly tethering his mount to some
nearby tree, continued the attack on foot.
Every tree seemed to shelter a hostile Indian,
and the Whites themselves took advantage of
every bit of cover that offered itself.
“Keep close together, boys!” urged John Mason,
as, rifle in hand, he started forward with
Deerfoot and the two brothers. “Watch every
tree and don’t let yourselves be taken by surprise.”
“Look out!” warned Joseph suddenly.
“There’s an Indian.” He pointed to a large
tree in front of them and as he spoke a shaved
325head appeared on one side, a rifle was quickly
raised and a bullet sang close above the heads
of the four troopers.
“Quick! Before he can reload!” cried Robert,
and at full speed he darted forward toward
the tree which sheltered their enemy.
“Follow him! Follow him!” shouted Mason.
“Two on each side.”
Robert was the first to reach the spot, but
the Sac had fled. A movement in the bushes
close at hand warned him of the Indian’s presence,
however, and quickly raising his rifle he
fired. He saw a body fall, crashing to the
ground and knew that his aim had been true.
“Bob!” shouted Joseph. “Look out! Behind
you!”
Robert unconsciously dropped to the ground
in response to his brother’s warning. He was
not a second too soon. A tomahawk whizzed
over his head and buried itself deep in the trunk
of a nearby tree. Robert shuddered as he
realized how narrow an escape he had had.
The brave who had made this attempt on his
life, however, did not long escape the attention
of his intended victim’s companions. Three
rifles spoke almost at the same instant and one
326more Sac was added to those already lost by
Black Hawk.
“We’d better keep under cover more,” Mason
advised when Robert had rejoined his comrades.
“It’s all right to dash out and chase Indians
from behind trees but it’s risky business.”
“We must do it if we are going to win,” protested
Robert.
“Not at all,” retorted Mason. “We’ll drive
them off all right without having to expose ourselves
as much as you did.”
The noise was terrific. The reports of the
guns filled the air and the constant whoops of
the Indians added a weird note to the din. How
often the two brothers had heard the war
whoop. This time, however, it was tempered
by the shouts and cheers of the troops and its
effect consequently was not as horrifying.
“Here comes Atkinson!” cried Joseph suddenly.
The fight had been in progress for half
an hour and General Henry’s men were more
than holding their own.
“He heard the noise,” exclaimed Mason.
“I’m sorry for it, too. After the way he treated
General Henry he doesn’t deserve to be in this
at all.”
327“It will finish it up quicker, that’s all,” said
Robert, who was feverishly engaged in reloading
his rifle. He was intent upon doing his full
share in the battle and he was fearful that he
might waste a moment.
“They’ll be nearly surrounded now,” remarked
Joseph. “This is the end of Black
Hawk, I guess.”
The battle now degenerated into a massacre.
The Indians put up a stubborn defense until the
last, but their case was hopeless. They were
outnumbered and they were also weakened by
lack of food. The nature of the ground was to
their advantage, however. Deep ravines, old
logs, swamp holes, high grass and weeds
abounded, providing excellent protection to the
warriors. Knowing that they were doomed
they fought desperately, determined to sell
their lives as dearly as possible.
“This is too much for me,” exclaimed Joseph
at length.
“What’s the matter, Joe?” demanded Robert.
“I can fight, but I can’t slaughter people,” replied
Joseph with a shudder.
“I was just thinking the same thing,” remarked
John Mason. “I saw one of our men
328shoot a wounded Indian a few minutes ago.
That settles me.”
“It’s awful,” cried Joseph. “This isn’t war.
It is butchery.”
“They butchered us, though,” Robert maintained
stoutly. “Why shouldn’t we give them
what they gave us?”
“They don’t know any better, Bob,” said Mason.
“They are savages, but we are supposed
to be civilized, and we ought to know better, if
we don’t. A fair fight is one thing, but this is
not fair.”
“Look there!” cried Joseph. “Did you see
that?”
“No, what was it?” demanded Robert.
“An Indian girl held up her hands to surrender,
and somebody shot her down. Do you
call that right?”
“I certainly do not,” admitted Robert.
“Where’s Deerfoot?”
“In the thick of it, I suppose,” answered Joseph.
“We can’t stop him, for he wouldn’t understand,
but we can at least keep out of it ourselves.”
The three volunteers were now standing on
a bluff overlooking the great river. The Indians
329were hopelessly beaten and were making
desperate efforts to escape. Men, women and
children were trying to swim across the river,
but many were drowned and others coolly
picked off by sharpshooters stationed on the
bank. The sight was sickening. The ground
was littered with the corpses of Indians and
many of the white men were taking scalps as
freely as their red enemies ever did.
“There are a whole lot of Indians on that
island,” cried Robert pointing to a small piece
of ground covered with willows which lay not
far from the shore.
“Not for long, though,” said Mason grimly.
“Here comes the Warrior.”
The Warrior was a small steamer used to
transport army supplies. On board were a few
regulars and volunteers and a small cannon.
The boat approached close to the island that
Robert had indicated and fired round after
round of canister, raking it from end to end.
As if this were not enough a detachment of
troops was landed on the island soon after
the bombardment and with bayonets completed
the destruction of the few remaining
survivors.
330“Do you suppose any one escaped?” asked
Robert.
“From the island?” queried Mason. “Not a
single soul, I’m sure.”
“Do you think any Indians escaped at all?”
“I think so. Some crossed the river before
we got here.”
“Not many, I guess,” exclaimed Joseph.
“Black Hawk hasn’t enough men left to do any
damage now. The war is ended.”
“Yes,” agreed Mason. “The war is ended.
We can now go back to our homes and lead
peaceable lives once more. For my part I’m
glad of it.”
“I’d be, too, if I had a home to go to,” remarked
Joseph sadly.
“We’ve had our revenge, though, Joe,” exclaimed
Robert.
“Yes, we’ve had that, all right. At least
Black Hawk has been punished, though we
didn’t do so much of it.”
“You did your share,” said John Mason
warmly. “You got one good thing out of the
war, too, Joe.”
“What was that?” asked Joseph.
“The Swallow.”
331“I certainly did,” exclaimed Joseph warmly.
“I think I’ll go see if he is all right. I’d hate
to have him stolen at this late date.”
“We’ll all go,” said Mason. “The fight is over
and we might as well leave. Where’s Deerfoot?”
“He here,” replied a familiar voice as Deerfoot
appeared from behind a large clump of
willows. He had an expression of grim satisfaction
on his face and at his belt hung three
new scalps. The boys could not repress a feeling
of disgust as they saw these bloody trophies.
They had witnessed a great deal of killing and
seen much gore in the past few weeks, but instead
of becoming accustomed to it, they were
thoroughly sick of it all.
“Where’s Black Hawk?” demanded Robert of
Deerfoot. “Did you capture or kill him?”
“Black Hawk run away,” replied Deerfoot.
“If he is still at large we may have trouble
yet,” remarked Mason somewhat anxiously.
“He is a very smart man and may be able to
collect more braves and come back for revenge
some time.”
“Don’t you think he realizes that it is hopeless
to resist?” asked Joseph.
332“I don’t know,” said Mason, shaking his head.
“I have a feeling that we are always going to
have trouble until he is put out of the way. I
wish someone would capture him.”
CHAPTER XXX CONCLUSION
333
John Mason had wished for Black Hawk’s
capture. His wish was fulfilled and as fortune
would have it, he, Deerfoot and both Joseph
and Robert were present when the great
chief was delivered into the hands of his
enemies.
After the battle of Bad Axe the volunteers
were mustered out of service and the fighting
came to an end. All resistance on the part of
the Indians had been broken, and out of a thousand
Sacs who had crossed the Mississippi and
invaded the settlements in April, only a hundred
and fifty now remained. Black Hawk had
escaped, but Indians of hostile tribes were put
on his trail and at length succeeded in capturing
him.
On the twenty-seventh day of August, 1832,
334John Mason, Deerfoot, Joseph and Robert were
at Prairie du Chien. This was not far from the
scene of the last battle and the four friends
were still in that vicinity, chiefly because they
had no other place to which they might go. At
least the two brothers had no home, and Deerfoot
would leave them under no conditions.
John Mason remained with his young friends,
thinking he might still be of service to them, and
could offer them advice as to starting life
afresh.
They were all talking to the Indian Agent,
a man named Street, and were seeking his
knowledge of the country in the hope he might
be able to help them in the selection of a new
home. Suddenly a commotion started outside
and everyone rushed to see what the cause of
the excitement was. Into the streets of the
town marched two Winnebagos, Chaetar and
One-eyed Decorah by name. Between them and
with head held high, walked Black Hawk.
“Black Hawk is captured!” cried Mason.
“There he is now!”
Everyone in the crowd surged forward to
obtain a glimpse of the famous redman and
Joseph and Robert were in the very first row.
335Straight to the office of the Indian Agent the
old warrior was led and then Agent Street came
forward to meet him.
Black Hawk was indeed an imposing figure.
He was clad in a suit of white doeskin. His
hair was all plucked out with the exception of
the scalp-lock and in that were fastened some
eagle’s feathers. He was short in stature, as
he was only about five feet four or five inches
tall. His face was thin, with the high cheek
bones characteristic of his race. His mouth
was large and when in repose his lips remained
slightly parted. He had a prominent nose of
what is called the Roman type. His eyes were
bright and piercing, but with a thoughtful expression
in them. He had no eyebrows and his
forehead was high and broad. His head he
kept thrown back and his pose gave the impression
of dignity and of one accustomed to command.
“He’s not very beautiful,” whispered Robert.
“He looks smart, though.”
“He is smart,” exclaimed John Mason. “He
certainly led us a dance.”
“You know I feel sort of sorry for him,” said
Joseph. “I never had any pity for him when
336we were fighting him but he looks sort of pitiful
now.”
“Not to me,” cried Robert. “I can’t forget
what he did to us.”
Speeches were now made by the different men
in the assembly. Black Hawk’s two captors related
how they had captured the prisoner at
the Wisconsin River Dells, and Agent Street
congratulated, them on their good work.
Finally Black Hawk’s turn came and he arose
slowly and proudly from his seat. In a steady
and clear voice he faced the crowd and spoke
as follows:
“You have taken me prisoner with all my
warriors. I am much grieved, for I expected if
I did not defeat you, to hold out much longer,
and give you more trouble before I surrendered.
I tried hard to bring you into ambush, but your
last general understands Indian fighting. The
first one was not so wise. When I saw I could
not beat you by Indian fighting I determined to
rush on you, and fight you face to face. I fought
hard. But your guns were well aimed. The
bullets flew like birds in the air and whizzed by
our ears like the wind through the trees in
winter. My warriors fell around me; it began
337to look dismal. I saw my evil day at hand.
The sun rose dim on us in the morning and at
night it sank in a dark cloud, and looked like a
ball of fire. That was the last sun that shone
on Black Hawk. His heart is dead, and no
longer beats quick in his bosom. He is now a
prisoner of the white men; they will do with him
as they wish. But he can stand torture and is
not afraid of death. He is no coward. Black
Hawk is an Indian.
“He has done nothing for which an Indian
ought to be ashamed. He has fought for his
countrymen, the squaws and the papooses,
against white men, who came year after year
to cheat him and take away their lands. You
know the cause of our making war. It is known
to all white men. They ought to be ashamed
of it. The white men despise the Indians, and
drive them from their homes. But the Indians
are not deceitful. The white men speak bad of
the Indian, and look at him spitefully. But the
Indian does not tell lies; Indians do not steal.
“An Indian who is as bad as the white men
could not live in our nation; he would be put
to death and eaten up by the wolves. The white
men are bad schoolmasters; they carry false
338books. They smile in the face of the poor Indian
to cheat him; they shake him by the hand
to gain his confidence, to make him drunk, to
deceive and ruin him. We told them to let us
alone and keep away from us, but they followed
on and beset our paths, and they coiled themselves
among us like the snake. They poisoned
us by their touch. We were not safe. We
lived in danger. We were becoming like them,
hypocrites and liars, all talkers and no workers.
“We looked up to the Great Spirit. We went
to our great father. We were encouraged.
His great council gave us fair words and big
promises; but we got no satisfaction. Things
were growing worse. There were no deer in
the forest. The opossum and beaver were fled;
the springs were drying up, and our squaws
and papooses were without victuals to keep them
from starving. We called a great council and
built a large fire. The spirit of our fathers
arose and spoke to us to avenge our wrongs or
die. We all spoke before the council fire. It
was warm and pleasant. We set up the war
whoop and dug up the tomahawk; our knives
were ready and the heart of Black Hawk swelled
high in his bosom when he led his warriors to
339battle. He is satisfied. He will go to the world
of spirits contented. He has done his duty.
His father will meet him there and commend
him.
“Black Hawk is a true Indian and disdains
to cry like a woman. He feels for his wife, his
children and friends. But he does not care for
himself. He cares for his nation and the Indians.
They will suffer. He laments their
fate. The white men poison the heart. My
countrymen will in a few years become like the
white men, so that you cannot trust them, and
there must be as in the white settlements, nearly
as many officers as men to take care of them
and keep them in order.
“Farewell, my nation. Black Hawk tried to
save you, and avenge your wrongs. He drank
the blood of some of the Whites. He has been
taken prisoner and his plans are stopped. He
can do no more. He is near his end. His sun
is setting and he will rise no more. Farewell
to Black Hawk.”
He finished speaking and a silence fell upon
the crowd gathered to hear him. He had made
a profound impression and his hearers were
deeply affected.
340“I certainly feel sorry for that man,” exclaimed
Joseph at length.
“So do I,” agreed Mason. “He tried to do
right as he saw it and now he is broken-hearted
and discouraged.”
“His spirit is not broken, though,” said Robert
warmly.
“I should think not,” exclaimed Joseph. “It
never will be either. As he says himself, ‘he
is an Indian’.”
“He doesn’t think much of the white men,
does he?” said Robert.
“Not much,” agreed John Mason. “I don’t
blame him, for they have given the Indians a
pretty rough treatment as a rule.”
“There are bad Indians, just as there are bad
white men,” said Joseph. “I guess the bad
white men are more numerous, though.”
“Ugh,” grunted Deerfoot.
“Did you agree with that remark?” cried Robert,
advancing toward Deerfoot with a threatening
air. “You know what will happen to you
if you did.”
Deerfoot smiled grimly at his young friend’s
remarks. He was gradually becoming used to
the teasing he was constantly subjected to and
341he was learning how to take it in good spirits.
“Me no afraid,” he exclaimed and almost
laughed as he spoke.
“You’re improving, Deerfoot. You’ll be all
right soon,” laughed Robert as he slapped his
Pottowattomie friend heartily on the back.
“Come on, Bob,” urged Joseph. “It’s time
for us to be leaving. There goes Black Hawk.”
The four friends turned to look and saw
Black Hawk being led away down the street.
Two soldiers walked on each side of him, while
with head still held proudly erect the aged warrior
marched silently on and thus passed from
the sight of John Mason, Deerfoot, Robert and
Joseph forever.
THE END
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES
Silently corrected typographical errors and variations in spelling.
Archaic, non-standard, and uncertain spellings retained as printed.
