“Cease!” commanded the haggard Black Hawk, his face full of travail. “Put those things behind us. The Big Knives press us closely. What is best to be done?” “Let us take a stand on the bluff by the river, with the strongest of our warriors,” proposed the fertile-minded Ne-a-pope. “Then--” “Ugh!” grunted the thick-headed Wolf, failing to perceive the scheme of the medicine-man. “Why so?” “Beyond the bluff,” went on Ne-a-pope, “there is a path through the marsh, leading to a ford where the river can easily be crossed by our people.” “Wise words, oh Ne-a-pope,” the Hawk swiftly replied, in tones of high praise. “By the time the Big Knives come up, it will be late afternoon. It is cloudy, and darkness will come early. If we can keep the pale-faces at bay till nightfall, we can slip away across the stream before morning. The white snakes will not follow us beyond the river, where lay tangled forests that the pale-face has never trod.” “Ho, ho!” cried the Wolf, new hope in his savage heart, “We will yet work loose from the Big-Knife trap!” CHAPTER 20 Musket and Tomahawk The place at which the Sacs had chosen to stand and fight was admirably suited to such a delaying action as Black Hawk hoped to effect. It was a shallow valley, rimmed on the north by low hills, and on the south by steep bluffs known as the Wisconsin Heights. The valley itself was covered with rank grass to a height of six feet, while the slopes of the bluff were heavily wooded. In addition to these natural advantages, a light rain was starting to fall, and night was not more than three hours distant, as the cagy Hawk had noted. Meantime, the squadron of rangers under Dodge, was pushing forward with renewed vigor, and shortly after four o’clock their scouts made contact with Black Hawk’s snipers on the low hills that bordered the grassy valley. “Black Hawk is a smart Injun,” commented Bill Brown. “He’s picked out a powerful good place to fight.” “You’re quite right,” agreed Dodge, apprehensively viewing the grass-grown valley and the sheer bluff beyond. “We had best wait, until General Henry comes up with the main force of the volunteers.” “It ain’t long till dark, Colonel,” cautioned the veteran scout, dubious of delay. “I know that, Brown,” responded Dodge worriedly, “but I feel that it would be folly to throw this small body of rangers against the whole Sac tribe. Their position is far too strong.” “Hawk sly like fox,” put in Bright Star sagely. “Maybe slip out from snare.” In a half-hour the vanguard of the volunteers arrived, and, after a hurried conference between Dodge and Henry, a charge was ordered. Every fourth man of the white column was detailed to hold the horses, while the rest of the troopers advanced on foot. The alert savages, sensing the plan, made a heavy counter-charge, yowling like madmen, and tried hard to flank the whites; but they were repulsed with considerable loss.