The Border Riflemen; or, The Forest Fiend. A Romance of the Black-Hawk Uprising

by Albert W. Aiken

And the compact little body rode away at a killing pace, leaving Major Stillman to his own devices.

Stillman hesitated for some time before advancing, for he knew that the desertion of Captain Melton was a great loss to him. While he stood in doubt, the men who had killed two Indians came back at a gallop and announced that the Indians were just across Sycamore creek and in some force. All was now confusion in the white camp. Some who had dismounted sprung into the saddle, and with wild shouts the disorderly band rushed on, headed by the men who had just come in. Black-Hawk had not supposed that Stillman intended to attack him, and the greater portion of his force were on the other side of the village; in all, the great chief had only forty men under his command when Stillman’s men came up at the gallop, strung out across the plain, man, by man, according to the speed of their horses, and in this manner crossed the creek. Black-Hawk had not hoped that they would thus give themselves a prey to him, and his ambuscade was quickly formed.

When half the party had crossed the creek and were massed in disorder upon the bank and the rest were struggling up, some crossing the creek, and others yet upon the plain beyond, the war-whoop of the Sacs announced the onset, and from every side the warriors poured in upon the foe. One withering volley was poured in, which strewed the earth with dead and dying forms, and at the same moment the charge was made and the knife and hatchet was doing its silent but deadly work before the doomed men had time to lift a hand. To show the utter foolishness with which the advance was made, it is enough to say that the warlike major was never in the fight at all, so quickly was the force which had crossed the creek disposed of by the furious attack of Black-Hawk.

The cry was, “Satan take the hindmost.” Hardly waiting for Stillman’s order to retreat, they broke and fled in every direction, each man for himself, lashing their horses to get out of the fearful imbroglio into which their own foolhardy conduct had forced them.

Thus, in one desperate charge forty Indians had put two hundred and seventy white men to flight! It is no discredit to the West, for the men of Stillman’s force, under a different leader, would have laughed at the efforts of the Sac force. They came into Dixon’s Ferry as they had left Sycamore creek, one at a time, and the loss gradually dwindled from seventy to about one-fourth of the number.

The alarm went forth through the land, and the little force of Sac warriors were magnified into an army. The work had been done, however, and a scene of blood and death was about to be enacted upon the border.

Captain Melton rode back to the settlement, after leaving Stillman, but had not gone far when the flying men from the band of heroes began to come up with him. Seeing that the war was begun in earnest he faced about and prepared to meet them as best he might, knowing nothing of the small force of Black-Hawk. After waiting all night for some sign of Indian pursuit, as none was made he drew off his men and reached the settlement some hours after the arrival of Stillman, who had been filling the ears of the inhabitants with stories of the cowardly conduct of the captain.

The captain quickly set matters right, and only that he had more important business upon his hands, would have followed Stillman to the camp of Atkinson, to which he had directed his steps. Taking ten of his men, he rode up the river, to the residence of Mr. Wescott, but as he drew near, he found evidences upon every hand of the presence of the destroyer, and as he crossed the hill, saw, to his horror, that during the last night the cabin had been attacked. Wild with fear, he rushed in at the broken door and found every thing in confusion, and scattered here and there, various bits of Indian finery, beads and the like, which told him beyond a doubt who had done the work.

“Indians,” said one of the men. “Good heaven, captain, they are killed!”

They explored the house everywhere, but not a trace of the family could be seen. Upon the floor near the entrance was a little pool of fresh blood, which looked as if it had been shed the night before, and Melton looked at it with a shudder.