For months there had been talk of old Black Hawk and his Sacs going on the warpath over the occupation of their lands in Northern Illinois by the swift-advancing, ruthless whites. The old Sac, or Sauk, chieftain had long threatened to resist by force of arms this violation of the treaty. He had been so long, however, in even making a start to carry out his threat that the more enlightened pioneers had ceased to take any stock in his spoutings. The Free Press, Lafayette's only newspaper, had from time to time printed news seeping out of the Northwest by means of carrier or voyageur; their tales bore out the reports furnished by Federal and State authorities on the more or less unsettled conditions. There was, for example, the extremely disquieting story that Black Hawk, on his return from a hunting trip west of the Mississippi, had travelled far eastward across Northern Indiana to seek the advice of the British commander in Canada. Not only was the story of this pilgrimage true, but the fact was afterward definitely established that the British official advised the chief to make war on the white settlers,--this being late in 1831, nearly twenty years after the close of the War of 1812. Many of Black Hawk's warriors had served under Tecumseh in the last war with England, and they still were rabid British sympathizers. Amidst the greatest enthusiasm and excitement, the men of Lafayette organized the "Guards," a company some three hundred strong. After several days of intensive and, for a time, ludicrous "drilling," they were ready and eager to ride out into the terrorized Northwest. Kenneth Gwynne was a private in "The Guards." During the thrilling days of preparation for the expedition, he saw little of the women next door. Doubtless for reasons of their own, Viola and her mother maintained a strange and persistent aloofness. It was not until the evening before the departure of the "Guards" that he took matters into his own hands and walked over to Rachel's house. The few glimpses he had had of Viola during these busy days and nights served not only to increase his ardent craving for her but caused him the most acute misery as well. Utter despond had fallen upon him. It was significant of her new attitude toward life that she had cast aside the sombre habiliments of mourning. She was now appearing in bright, though not gay, colours,--unmistakable evidence of her decision to abandon all pretence of grief for the man she had looked upon for so many years as her father.