A signal whistle, well known to the “merry men” of Melton, brought in all upon the flank, and with shouts of victory, all charged upon the broken and demoralized body of Sacs. They had fought bravely, but their courage was not proof against the assault, and they broke and fled in every direction through the woods, pursued by the victorious whites, who only wanted to get deeper into the woods, to avoid the force coming up in their rear. They would not have done this had they known that it was Dick Garrett and his party, bringing as prisoner, Sadie Wescott, whom Minneoba would not leave. Scouts from the party of Napope having discovered the coming of the disguised whites, and apprised the chief, he hurried out to meet them, and started as he saw who they held as prisoner. “Ha!” he cried. “Then it is my brother who struck the wigwam of Wescott, and took him prisoner?” “Yes,” said Garrett. “You see our boss, Will Jackwood, wanted this girl, and sent me to take her.” “Where is Wescott, now?” demanded Napope. “Well,” said Garrett, hesitating, “he’s gone under; that’s what’s the matter with _him_.” “Let my brother speak more plainly,” said the chief. “What has become of Wescott, the good white man?” “He has been murdered,” replied Sadie, coming forward, quickly. “Chief, you know what he was, and that he never willingly wronged the Indians. You know, too, that when the mob in the village assaulted Black-Hawk and yourself, he came to your aid and helped you to escape. He has been brutally murdered, by this base wretch, Garrett.” “The girl lies, I reckon,” said Garrett, sullenly. “See here, chief; is it calculated in your tribe that women are any better off for having too much tongue?” “My brother must let the Wild Rose speak,” replied Napope. “When the Sacs come hungry and thirsty into her father’s lodge, she is always ready to give them food and drink; when they are weary, and the night air is cold, there is always a warm place by the fire to spread a blanket. The child of Wescott must be allowed to speak.” “Now look here, chief,” said Garrett, in the same ferocious tone. “’Tain’t noways likely I’m going to come down to you or any man on earth. If Wescott was killed, he was my pris’ner, and I had a right to do what I would with him. Have you any thing to say against it?” Napope inclined his head slowly, as recognizing the justice of the remark. The life of the man was as little regarded by the Indians as by Garrett, and Napope rather liked the tone of insolence he assumed. “Napope,” cried Sadie, “I want you to listen to me. This wicked man threw my father into the water, from the flat-boat, and he has not been seen since. Will you see a good man murdered and refuse to avenge him?” Napope was evidently troubled, for just now he needed the assistance of Garrett and his men, and did not wish to make him angry.