Herbert L. Risteen

“ The Indians, with their white flag flying prettily in the light breeze, had progressed across the green prairie to within a mile of the volunteer camp, when they suddenly found themselves face to face with a little band of white horsemen who emerged from behind a thick grove of trees. With a sinking heart the renegade, Fagan, quickly discerned that one of the approaching whites was his old commander at Fort Dearborn, Captain Van Alstyne. ”

“ Pursuit of Black Hawk
WHEN Colonel Dodge had been informed by the two scouts of the surprising result of their nocturnal mission, his rage at the duplicity of the White Crow was fearful to see. With a mighty effort, however, he controlled his feelings, and his handsome face was once more bland and impassive as he summoned the Winnebago chief to his presence.
“Ho, Kaukishkaka,” he said, in a disarming manner, “can you not find us an easier trail? This one is nothing more than a series of mud-holes, each one worse than the last. We make poor progress.” ”

“ The trio was now approaching the vicinity of Fort Dearborn, the log walls of which loomed up less than a half-mile ahead. At this point, the muddy path led between a swamp, on one hand, and the door of a squatty log structure, known to the garrison of the fort as the “Mud Turtle,” on the other. The Turtle was nothing more than a grog-shop and gambling dive, much frequented by the rougher element among the troopers. It was also known as a rendezvous for fur poachers, Indian renegades, white border ruffians, and, in fact, every sort of frontier riffraff of the worst stamp. ”

“ Just as he did so, however, the Captain leaped forward and clapped his pistol muzzle to the ruffian’s back.
“Forward, march!” he ordered sharply; and Fagan, choking with rage at this untimely turn of events, had no alternative but to obey.
It was at this precise moment that the dangerous Prairie Wolf sped into view, astride his pony. His savage brain at once grasped the situation. This was the white renegade, ally of the Sacs, in the hands of the enemy. With a fierce whoop he pulled a gleaming war-hatchet from his belt, and sent it whizzing at Van Alstyne’s head. ”

“ It was now mid-afternoon, and the harassed Black Hawk called a hasty council of his sub-chiefs.
“Our cause is lost,” spoke up Ne-a-pope bluntly.
“We could not fight the Big Knives alone,” snarled the surly Prairie Wolf. “The accursed Foxes—”
“Cease!” commanded the haggard Black Hawk, his face full of travail. “Put those things behind us. The Big Knives press us closely. What is best to be done?”
“Let us take a stand on the bluff by the river, with the strongest of our warriors,” proposed the fertile-minded Ne-a-pope. ”

“ When dawn came, the Sac encampment awakened to sudden activity. The sun was barely above the horizon when Walking Cloud and three other braves rode out from the lodges toward the camp of the whites. On the end of a spear the Cloud bore a white flag, signifying that the Sacs wished to have a conference with the white militia.
Accompanying the four Sacs, on their all-important mission, was a white man—none other than the giant deserter, Pat Fagan. Black Hawk had prevailed on the big renegade to act as an interpreter, not knowing whether or not the whites had one in their ranks. ”

“ Not only the three whites were weary of the long stay at Dixon’s Ferry; but even Bright Star, possessed of the interminable patience of his race, was beginning to show signs of restlessness.
Accordingly, at mid-morning, right on the dot, Bill Brown took off again for Atkinson’s headquarters. He didn’t get back until nearly noon. Upon his return, he found Ben and Tom Gordon sitting outside their tent, fairly chewing their nails in suspense. The hawk-eyed Bright Star stood at one side, skillfully flipping his gleaming knife at a wooden tent-peg. ”

“ Advance, oh chief, with your valiant warriors.”
“The Prairie Wolf speaks words of great wisdom,” nodded Ne-a-pope vigorously. “When Fox and Winnebago hear how the white soldiers ran at our fierce charge, and see the many scalps hanging from Sac girdles, they will flock to our side. We will drive the thievish pale-faces from our lands forever!”
“Your tongues are sharp,” Black Hawk replied thoughtfully, “but it may well be that your advice is of the best.”
“Ho!” said Ne-a-pope.
“Ugh!” urged the Prairie Wolf. “Sac, Winnebago and Fox will stand as one. Death to the pale-face!” ”

“ The weary savages lay down to sleep, in a circle about the fire, leaving one, lone Indian to keep watch.
Now the three lads in the thicket began their slow retreat. They were so careful about it, that it was all of a half-hour before they were far enough beyond the circle of the firelight to rise safely to their feet. But after that, they sped along the trail, which was plain before them; for the night clouds had now cleared away and a full moon and many big stars were shining.
About a mile from the fort, Tom and Ben took leave of Bright Star, who now took a side-path toward his own village. ”

“ The ring of fire spouting from their guns had beaten off the men of Black Hawk—for the time being. But Major Stillman knew well enough that the attack would eventually come again. The second time it would be more difficult to beat back, as the wily Sacs could now creep up on the defenders from the rear, through the tents and trees of the grove.
Their skirmishers, slipping along the ground like red snakes, would press closer and closer, ever more dangerous. Hawk-eyed sharpshooters would pick off the helpless whites one by one. ”

“ After passing the last of these bogs, they came to a place where the trail followed the high, sheer bank very closely for an interval. A short distance ahead, on a point known as Fox’s Head, they could see the village of the famed White Crow. Suddenly, Bright Star, who was riding at the rear of the column with the other scouts, drew rein on his pony and pointed out into the lake. A canoe, with three paddlers, was shooting down the surface, heading south, a long quarter of a mile away.
“Prairie Wolf!” asserted the keen-eyed young brave.
“No?” barked Tom Gordon incredulously. ”

“ But get Fagan!”
Alas! the warning came too late. An ill-aimed shot from a soldier musket struck one of the flying Sacs. For a moment, it seemed that the brave would retain his saddle. He swayed desperately, then caught at the mane of his mount. A second afterward, however, he threw up his hands, raised a quavering death-song, and toppled heavily to the earth, not a breath of life in his coppery body.
As the pursuit continued, it began to look as if the big deserter would make good his escape. The Sac ponies were proving to be faster steppers than the mounts of the military. ”

“ A pair of soiled skin leggings completed his dress.
“It’ll be murder!” groaned Tom. “Prairie Wolf looks strong as a bull.”
“He’ll be a wicked opponent,” agreed Ben, with a solemn shake of the head.
18 Crude flags had been stuck in the sand roundabout, marking out an arena; and gruff Indian guards now cleared this ring. Heading these guards, and likewise acting as seconds, were the great chiefs, Chepoi and Blue Jacket. A little outside the ring, all alone, was the dusky Indian princess. She stood erect and motionless, with arms akimbo, seemingly indifferent to the fierce combat soon to ensue. ”

“ They now sent word, alas too late, advising the Sac chief not to take the war-path against the Americans.
“Ugh!” said Black Hawk, in reproachful tone, to Ne-a-pope and the Prairie Wolf, “your advice was bad. We have driven the Big Knives (whites) headlong in flight and taken many scalps, yet the craven Fox and Winnebago do not come to our side.”
“You were right, oh Black Hawk,” lamented the thin-faced Ne-a-pope. “Fox and Winnebago are old women. Their hearts are faint and their muscles weak.” ”

“ All morning the little detachment advanced steadily, always keeping the same formation, as they followed a well-defined Indian trail that trended due west. The three white scouts and Bright Star led, Captain Van Alstyne was just behind, with Lieutenant Clark at his side; and then came the blue-coated troopers in a close group. A little past noon, they halted for a short rest and to water the horses in a stream. The hungry men also partook of food from their pouches. ”

“ The boys saw soldiers walking back and forth, rifle on shoulder, across the parade ground, and beyond them other soldiers. Most of them were straight, sinewy and alert men, well equipped to cope with any danger or other problem that might present itself.
When they had been ushered once again into the familiar quarters of Major Whistler, that harried officer came straightway to the point.
“You’ve doubtless heard, men,” he said crisply, “that the die is cast. Black Hawk has raised the war-cry. I am, therefore, straining every nerve to get the mounted detachment ready to start west tomorrow.” ”

“ ALL that day, and the next morning, too, the band of troopers from Fort Dearborn continued their steady travel westward, over the rolling prairies of the Illinois country. The four scouts—three whites and one red—led the march, and from time to time the agile Bright Star would alight from his horse and examine the trail they were following. His study always revealed that the Prairie Wolf and his Sacs, together with the deserter, Pat Fagan, were fleeing before them. ”

“ Ben said soberly.
“No doubt the graves of the Indian victims,” commented Van Alstyne acidly. “Evidently Black Hawk and his painted braves are unique among the savages. They murder the settlers and then give them civilized burial.”
“Yer right on one score, Cap’n, fer a change,” answered Bill Brown calmly. “The mounds cover the bodies o’ the pore folk kilt by the Injuns. But these Christian graves are the work o’ white men, who must’ve come along arter the massacre an’ found the corpses.” ”

“ Above all, try to keep those red knaves of Black Hawk’s from setting an ambush. That’s what I fear most.”
“It’s been the redskins’ fav’rite mode o’ warfare,” admitted the scout, “from Braddock’s day on.”
“In that connection,” continued the officer, rubbing his cheek reflectively, “I wonder if it might not be a smart plan to get some friendly Indians to go along with you,—to aid in the scouting. Not that I don’t consider you the best in the business, Bill, but an Indian has unique gifts in the scouting line that no white man ever possesses.” ”

“ Not the kind of men who will scare easily, or turn tail at the whiz of the first arrow. I dare say that any one of them could whip three Sacs in a hand to hand fracas.”
“Ha! I only wish, Major, that the Sac roustabouts would try an attack on this camp.”
“Not a chance, sir,” scoffed Stillman. “Our position is too strong for them to risk an assault.”
“It is, indeed, a strong position,” nodded Van Alstyne, “camped in this grove as we are, with open prairie for two miles all around. It’d be suicide for the redskins to charge us. We could pick them off like pigeons.” ”

“ But there is one misguided chief who has taken the warpath against the whites. He is the Sac, Black-Hawk.”
“Ugh!” grunted the Grow. “The Hawk is a madman and a fool.”
“Aye, that he is. He cannot withstand the might of the pale-face soldiers, who are as many as the sands of the lake-shore, and bold as panthers.”
“Will the pale-face soldiers fight?”
“Of course the pale-face soldiers will fight, Kaukishkaka,” rejoined Dodge sternly. “Why should you ask that?”
179 “The whites did not fight on the banks of the Sycamore. They ran like rabbits. The Sacs say that the whites will not fight. ”

“ At the behest of Lieutenant Clark, Bill Brown, Bright Star and Tom Gordon went up the trail, scouting in the twilight. The three scouts came back, after a while, and reported that nothing could be found on the prairie to the north. There seemed no danger of a night attack, and the men could probably sleep undisturbed till the morning; although double guards would be posted as a precaution, now that they were in the very heart of the Indian domain. ”

“ Bright Star ran busily about the place, looking intently at the ground.
“Maybe six, seven, eight Indian,” he told the others, after a time. “Also one pale-face. Big man.”
“Hear that, fellows,” cried Tom, his eyes glinting.98 “That’s our old pal, Pat Fagan, for sure. He’s turned renegade and joined up with Prairie Wolf and the Sacs, just as we figured.”
“Shall we tell Captain Van Alstyne about this?” inquired Ben.
“Naw,” replied Bill Brown, deep resentment in his tone, “he won’t believe ther’s an Injun war on, till he gits a flyin’ tomahawk in the back o’ his skull.” ”