Whipple cast a calculating eye up and down Abe’s sinewy frame, and decided to promptly forget his threat. “Now look har, Abe,” he whined, “we’re out on a Injun war-hunt, an’ we wants to kill Injuns.” “Kill all the Sacs you want, Whipple. I’m with you there. But you won’t harm a hair of this young brave.” At these resolute words of Lincoln, there came an angry muttering from several in the crowd. The sound of threats was heard. “If any man wants to dispute with me,” grated Abe, “let him stand forth.” “Aw, that ain’t fair, Abe,” protested Whipple. “Yer taller an’ stronger then we uns.” “There’s a remedy for that,” was the sharp reply. “You may choose your weapons.” There was some further argument; but it soon became apparent that the staunch words of the border captain were beginning to have their effect. The flaring tempers of the crowd were gradually cooling. Only Whipple and three or four other hot-heads remained savage and sullen, though not daring to accept Abe’s bold challenge. Tom Gordon had by now dragged himself to his feet, still dizzy from the force of the foul blow he had been given. “I say, Captain Lincoln,” he spoke up, “the Pottawattomee has a military pass. He’s an army scout.” “What’s that, lad?” cried Abe. “Jimmy, I never thought of that. Of course, he would have.” And when the pass was produced, duly signed by Major Whistler, commander at Fort Dearborn, the crest-fallen Jeb Whipple and his hard-bitten cronies lost little time in taking their leave; while big Abe Lincoln and the three boys quickly escorted the lucky Bright Star to the safety of the troopers’ tents. By this time it was near sundown; so the horses were put out to grass. Then the troopers and scouts ate bread and fried salt pork and drank strong tea. A short hour after dark, they were ready for sleep. The evening was warm and humid, and many of the soldiers, deserting the stuffy tents, spread their blankets on the open prairie, where the grass was soft and thick. Silence had barely descended on the slumbering encampment, when two army couriers, racing their ponies up the trail from the east, sped into view. They failed to heed the summons of the frightened sentinel, who had Indians very much on his mind. In his alarm, his musket fell from his nerveless grasp and discharged, cracking out on the quiet night air like a peal of thunder. Suddenly the whole camp was in a bedlam. There was a scattering of gun-fire. Drums and fifes sounded; hoots and yells came from all sides. The picketed horses reared and struggled. Many broke away in terror, dashing helter-skelter through the tents, snorting and cavorting, stepping on the soldiers stretched out for the night’s rest. Company commanders ran wildly about, trying to form battle lines. Volunteers sprang dazedly to their feet, clutching their guns in drowsy terror. But nothing happened. The cause of the sudden alarm was soon found out. And the grumbling militia again settled down to sleep.