[Illustration: Fagan struck the ground with a prodigious thud. “Black Hawk’s Warpath” (_See Page 119_)] _H. L. RISTEEN_ black hawk’s warpath _Illustrated_ _Cupples and Leon Company_ PUBLISHERS NEW YORK COPYRIGHT, 1950, BY CUPPLES AND LEON COMPANY _Black Hawk’s Warpath_ PRINTED IN THE U. S. A. Contents CHAPTER PAGE I. A Frontier Duel 11 II. Bill Brown, Border Scout 21 III. At Point of Rocks 32 IV. The Midnight Council 42 V. At Fort Dearborn 51 VI. Among the Pottawattomees 60 VII. Furious Fists 67 VIII. Indian War-Cry 78 IX. Shadows in the Night 88 X. Horsemen of the Prairie 99 XI. The Lodge of Black Hawk 109 XII. Stillman’s Run 120 XIII. A Daring Escape 133 XIV. A Thrilling Rescue 143 XV. Rock River Camp 153 XVI. Scouts of the Prairie 163 XVII. With Dodge’s Rangers 172 XVIII. White Crow’s Treachery 183 XIX. Pursuit of Black Hawk 193 XX. Musket and Tomahawk 205 XXI. War-Trail’s End 216 BLACK HAWK’S WARPATH CHAPTER 1 A Frontier Duel “Hey, Tom! there’s a big hubbub amongst the Injuns!” exclaimed Ben Gordon to his twin brother, as he rushed into an unpainted, frame shanty in the frontier hamlet of Chicago. The two schoolboys had arrived from the east only the day before, keenly eager for a summer of western adventure. “You don’t say, Ben! What goes on?” “Two young braves, both sons of chiefs, are dead set on fighting a duel!” Tom looked up soberly from the breakfast table. “Whew!” he said, “somebody may get hurt.” “Righto, but they’re mighty bitter, I hear. Have sworn vengeance.” “What’s the argument about?” “An Injun girl, I guess. Prettiest young squaw in the whole Chippeway tribe.” Tom Gordon hastily finished his dish of stewed prunes, bolted a fat doughnut, drained his cup of black tea, and then joined his brother on the long porch which extended across the entire front of the low, rambling building. The two sixteen-year old lads were identical twins, both long of limb, freckle-faced and red-haired. Each wore cowhide boots, into which were tucked baggy trousers of gray wool. In their leather belts were sheath knives. Flannel shirts of a bright blue shade completed their simple attire. Across the narrow Chicago River, directly facing them and clearly outlined in the morning sun, was the frontier outpost of Fort Dearborn. The stockaded fort stood on a promontory, around which the river swept to the southeast, joining Lake Michigan about a half-mile below. Above the fort, built some sixteen years before, in the year 1816, the rude cabins, shanties and other buildings of the village were strung haphazardly along both banks of the stream.