“Yes, Major,” smiled Van Alstyne, “the red upstart says it’s either get out, or he’ll put you out.” “I don’t envy him his job, Captain. My men are spoiling for a fight with these Sac butchers. It will be as easy for us as sticking pigs.” “Why, of course it will, Stillman. That red trash can’t stand up to white soldiers. What rot!” “You’re quite right, especially a picked force such as I have. Crack shots, every one of them, and bold as bears.” “They look to be a hardy breed,” observed the Captain. “That they are. 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.” “You say that your detachment of sixty troopers will come up from Dixon’s Ferry today?” asked Stillman, suddenly changing the subject. “Yes, I so ordered. They should be here by evening, at the latest.” “Good! we will rest them overnight, and then make a quick sally against Black Hawk tomorrow. We’ll whip him soundly and put an end to his big notions. The gall of the red rascal, thinking he can scare us!” Van Alstyne now left the tent, to lead away his horse to the south side of the grove, where all the mounts were picketed. He had been gone only a few minutes, when young Ben Gordon burst into the tent, his face aglow with excitement. “Sac horsemen, sir!” he cried. “Charging across the prairie!” “Bosh, lad!” the Major exclaimed, nevertheless jumping up from his campstool. “Probably another white flag!” “No, Major! the Sacs mean business this time! fully armed and painted for battle!” From without the tent there now arose a confused bedlam of shouts, yells, threats and bickering. The hubbub mounted with every succeeding second. The volunteer camp was in a growing uproar. Something was clearly amiss. Stillman stood stock-still for a long second, on his face a look of complete amazement; then bent low and darted through the tent flap, with the boy close at his heels. Shouting at the top of his voice, he took to issuing orders right and left; but such was the turmoil among the frightened volunteers, that scarcely a man gave heed. All about, men were running hither and yon like scared rabbits, looking for their weapons, and casting fearsome glances through the trees toward the open prairie to the north. “Gad, there is a body of savages out there!” roared Stillman, dashing to the edge of the grove and gazing intently northward.