The Indians were now nearly all upon the west bank of the river, the chiefs preferring this to longer intercourse with the white men. These simple men were no match for their wily antagonists, and had too rapidly imbibed their vices. Black-Hawk was an Indian, but he had a heart to feel for the woes of his people, and he saw that only by force of arms could he hope to succeed in wresting his country from the hand of the invader.
“Is it possible that my father’s land belongs to the Indians?” said Sadie. “He paid for it honestly, and would not willingly wrong any man.”
“The Wild Rose speaks truly. Her father has a great heart, but he holds the land which belongs to Black-Hawk.”
“Then he will pay for it again, sooner than wrong a chief of the Sacs.”
“Black-Hawk will not sell his lands to a white man. Let the words of Minneoba sound in the ears of Wild Rose. This is no place for her to dwell. Let her get a swift horse and fly away until the tempest has passed, for a dark cloud hangs over her father’s house and threatens her.”
“I have done no wrong; why should I flee?”
“My sister, the evil will come to the just and the unjust, for Black-Hawk will have his land again. Do not ask me to tell you more, for a Sac maiden can not betray her father, but take those you love and fly.”
While yet speaking, the rapid beat of hoofs could be heard, and two men rounded a point of woods and approached them. At a glance Sadie recognized Black Will and a desperate ruffian who was more than suspected of selling arms to the Indians, a great offense upon the frontier. This man’s name was Richard Garrett, and he was hated and feared all along the border.
“Ha, look!” cried Minneoba. “Yonder comes a bad white man, who has spoken evil words in the ears of Black-Hawk. What does he here?”
“Let us hurry away,” whispered Sadie. “He is my enemy, and I fear to meet him now.”