THROUGH THE SWAMPS
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.
“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.
“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.”
“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 John 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 trader 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 and 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 themselves 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 with 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 and 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 did 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.”
“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.”