“Nonsense, you foolish girl,” said Sadie, blushing. “I have only seen him twice before, and probably shall never see him again. Let us return to the house.” CHAPTER III. BLACK-HAWK INSULTED. They had scarcely reached the house when the sound of voices could be distinctly heard upon the river and Joe sprung to the door, from which the stream was plainly visible. A dozen canoes were upon the water full of Indians, crossing from the other shore. “You’d better git out of sight, Minneoba,” said Cooney Joe. “It won’t be well for them to see you here unless you are forced to come out.” The Indian girl hurried into the cabin, and went into Sadie’s room. A moment later a tumultuous band of Sacs, shouting out furious threats against the whites, landed near the cabin and came hastily toward it. “Drunk as lords, every man jack of them,” said Joe. “We’ve got to talk sweet to them or thar will be some ha’r raised right about yer. Thar; that’s old Black-Hawk himself, by George. I wonder what he wants.” An Indian somewhat advanced in life, and wearing the usual insignia of a chief of the Sacs, headed the party, and a word from him stilled the clamorous tongues of the warriors. Mr. Wescott and Joe stepped out to meet them, and the chief received them by a lofty gesture. “We come for corn,” he said, “and my young men are so angry that they need the hand of a chief. It is hard that the Sacs must come like thieves in the night to take corn from their old fields.” “It is hard indeed, Black-Hawk,” replied Mr. Wescott. “I am as much grieved as you can be that this thing has happened, and upon my word, I hope that you may settle this trouble peaceably.” “Why do you stay on the Sac fields then?” replied the Indian, morosely. “The words of my brother are wise, but they do not agree with his actions. I stand upon Sac ground, which is _not_ sold and _can not_ be sold unless Black-Hawk puts his totem on the paper and gives a belt. Why is the white man here then?” “I bought of a man who claimed the right to sell,” said Wescott, “but I am willing to give you a fair price for the fields, even now.” “Black-Hawk will not sell his fathers’ graves,” replied the chief, fiercely. “Look; your white men are making my warriors like themselves, good at talking but no workers. They drink the accursed fire-water and become hogs. In a few years, the name of Sac will be forgotten and they will be but beasts to carry the loads the white man puts upon their backs.” “It’s no use talkin’ now, Black-Hawk,” said Cooney Joe. “I don’t say it’s right—because it ain’t—for Keokuk had no right to sell your land. But, the thing’s done and our fellers have possession, and I’m afraid they won’t give it up.” “They must.” “Oh, pshaw; you ought to know that they are darned good at takin’ things but they don’t give back wuth a cent. You may as well build a village over yender.”