“It is good to see you, Kaukishkaka,” the Colonel cordially saluted them, through his mouthpiece, the young Pottawattomee. “You have kept your promise.” “The White Crow does not speak with a forked tongue,” replied the Winnebago smoothly. “Which way lies the trail?” went on Dodge, coming abruptly to the problem at hand. “My rangers are eager to strike the scent of the Sacs.” “Straight toward the rising sun!” announced the Crow, pointing a bony finger eastward. “Let us start at once!” At Dodge’s command, the stirring notes of the trumpet sounded on the quiet morning air. Three hundred men quickly mounted and filed out on the trail, behind their coppery guides. As the Crow had stated, the path led straight to the east; and the trail, for some miles, was good, over an open, gently rolling country, interspersed here and there with groves of hardwood. The rangers, in a rather close group, followed the Indians, all of them looking attentively as they rode to saddle and girth, musket, pistol and knife. For two days, travel was unbroken and uneventful. Camp was made that second night at a place where the aspect of the country was beginning to change. Vast marshlands could be seen ahead, from the summit of the low hill where the stop was ordered. “Looks like we’re getting into the great swamps of the Koshkonong,” ventured Tom Gordon, as he appraised the region to the east. “That we are, lad,” nodded Bill Brown. “From here to the Big Rapids o’ Rock River, much o’ the goin’ ’ll be slow an’ treach’rous.” “Big Rapids of Rock River?” questioned Colonel Dodge surprisedly. “You seem to have an idea, Brown, just where we are heading.” “I reckon I have, Colonel.” “You’ve traversed this trail before?” “Yep, goin’ from the Four Lakes to Mil-wa-ke.” “And the swamps are very bad?” “Powerful bad. Wust I ’bout ever seed.” “To make it tougher,” pondered the officer, “this has been a wet year. Perhaps that confounded Crow is figuring to lure us into some impassable bog, where the Sac snakes can swallow us at leisure.” “I’m afeared so, Colonel. The Injuns know this swamp country like you know the palm o’ yer hand. Ther’s many a likely place fer ambush.” Dodge was silent for a few moments, watching the making of the camp. He called a subordinate and gave orders that double the usual number of sentinels be posted. “Furthermore,” he said, gritting his big, white teeth, “I’m sending scouts ahead of the column, several miles ahead, unbeknown, of course, to the White Crow and his skins.” “What the Crow don’t know, won’t hurt him,” grunted Bill. “The Crow looks uncommon sharp, for all his one eye,” observed Ben Gordon. “He may notice that scouts are missing from the troop.” “That’s so, boy,” Dodge admitted. “Hadn’t thought of that.” “A couple o’ scouts ’ll do the trick, Colonel,” stated Brown, “an’ two ain’t apt to be missed. I volunteer fer one.” “Good! I had you in mind.” “Count me in,” added Tom Gordon quickly.