ACROSS COUNTRY
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.
“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.”
“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?”
“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
Colonel 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 much. 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 not 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 rode 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 it 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
rolling 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.”
“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.
“I can’t see,” replied Mason. “Is anyone there, Deerfoot?”
“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.