This was the first that Atkinson had heard of a river expedition having been sent. He knew Captain Throckmorton as a very distinguished young officer, and a clever linguist, master of several native dialects. While he was speculating as to what had brought the schooner here, and, further, as to the meaning of a white, flag-like object which--as he looked past the vessel's stern--he could see waving on the opposite bank, one of the cutters had pulled ashore and was waiting for him. A lieutenant met him at the gangway. "Cap'n's talking to the redskins. Come aft, sir, please." Then the waving white thing was explained; there were Indians on the far bank, seeking, under cover of the white flag, to parley with the Captain. Atkinson joined him and, as well as he was able, followed the dialogue. "If you want to speak to me, you must send at least ten of your men aboard." "I have not so many with me." "Liar. I saw over a hundred of you a few minutes ago. Where's your hopeful leader? Where's Black Hawk?" "They were but women and children whom you saw." "Where's Black Hawk?" "Are those General Atkinson's warriors on the other bank?" "Yes," interrupted the old soldier explosively; "and I reckon you'll find that out purty soon." "Where is Black Hawk?" once more demanded the Captain. "He is--he is--oh, across the river." "Will you come aboard if I send you a boat?" "No." "Then I give you fifteen minutes in which to send away your women. You know what that--_Heads oh!_" A flight of arrows had greeted the Captain's last remark. Happily no one was struck, and the schooner immediately put into mid-stream again. Through the thick foliage on the bank, a redskin or a white feather could be seen every now and then; the muffled sound of voices could also be heard. Then another volley of arrows came; and another, and exclamations from the direction of the boats showed that two men were wounded. The captain motioned to the crews to shelter behind the vessel, but still he gave no order. He had promised a quarter of an hour's grace, and only five minutes of that time had gone by. "Hear that?" said Atkinson suddenly; and Throckmorton nodded. Every man on deck had heard the click-click of a score or more of gun-hammers being pulled back. The crew looked questioningly, but not impatiently, at their captain; they knew that he would not go back from his word. There were still seven minutes to wait. "Lie low, all hands," said Throckmorton very quietly; and as he spoke twenty or more sparks and flashes showed through the leaves and a shower of lead flew over their heads. The man at the wheel was shot in the shoulder; but the Captain sprang back and had taken the spokes almost before the sailor fell. "Let them go on," he said, looking at his watch again. "Your turn will come, my lads."