The two girls set out together, threading the mazes of the forest with an ease which only a forest life could impart, the Indian girl taking the advance, and chatting merrily with her companion as she proceeded. They had not gone far when they were met by two warriors, who expressed their satisfaction in their peculiar manner, and at once led the way to the river, which was not far away, and where a canoe was waiting in which they descended the stream, a distance of about three miles, landed upon a green point, and assisted Sadie to leave the canoe, which was then carefully concealed by leaves and brush. This done, the warriors again led the way, the two girls following, and they came suddenly upon a great camp of the Indians. More than four hundred people, principally fighting braves, although there was a small number of women and children, were resting in the beautiful glade, most of them engaged in cleaning their weapons and getting ready for the battle which was to come. Black-Hawk and Will Jackwood were conversing together apart from the rest, and the latter started forward with a look of delight as he saw Sadie, and advanced at once, closely followed by Black-Hawk.
“Welcome to the Indian camp, Sadie,” said Jackwood, endeavoring to take her hand. “You can not tell how unhappy I have been since I knew that you were lost.”
She took no notice of his extended hand, but went on to meet Black-Hawk, who greeted her kindly.
“Let the Wild Rose rest under the shelter of a Sac lodge,” he said. “Black-Hawk has been driven from the places he loved by the white men, but he can not forget that there are just white men, who would not do a wrong to the simple Indian. Such a man was the father of the Wild Rose.”
“Black-Hawk,” said Sadie, as she took the proffered hand, “when my father drove away the bad men who sought your life, you promised to be a friend to us. Now the time has come for you to keep your word.”
“Black-Hawk is not a white man, to speak with a double tongue. What he has spoken—he has spoken. Let the Wild Rose ask what she will from Black-Hawk, and if it is in his power, she shall have what she asks.”
“My father is dead,” she said, mournfully. “The bad men who follow William Jackwood, killed him because he would not kneel to them or beg for his life. Now, Jackwood follows me and I fear him, and I ask the protection of the great chief from this bad man.”
“Has the son of Red-Bird lied to me?” cried Black-Hawk, sternly. “He told me that the Wild Rose loved him and would come into his lodge gladly.”
“He has lied,” she answered. “He knows that I hate him above all men on earth, and that I would die sooner than permit myself to be his wife.”
“Be careful, girl,” hissed Jackwood. “You will raise a tempest which you can not quell, if you do not look out.”