When, therefore, the news came to Little Crow that some roving hunters of the Rice Creek band had killed in a brawl two families of white settlers, he saw his opportunity to show once for all to the disaffected that he had no love for the white man. Immediately he sprang upon his white horse, and prepared to make their cause a general one among his people.
Tawasuota had scarcely finished his hasty preparations for war, by painting his face and seeing to the loading of his gun, when he heard the voice of Little Crow outside his lodge.
“You are now my head soldier,” said the chief, “and this is your first duty. Little Six and his band have inaugurated the war against the whites. They have already wiped out two families, and are now on their way to the agency. Let my chief soldier fire the first shot.
“Those Indians who have cut their hair and donned the white man’s clothing may give the warning; so make haste! If you fall to-day, there is no better day on which to die, and the women of our tribe will weep proud tears for Tawasuota. I leave it with you to lead my warriors.” With these words the wily chief galloped away to meet the war-party.
“Here comes Little Crow, the friend of the white man!” exclaimed a warrior, as he approached.
“Friends and warriors, you will learn to-day who are the friends of the white man, and none will dare again to insinuate that I have been against the interests of my own people,” he replied.
After a brief consultation with the chiefs he advised the traders:
“Do not hesitate to fill the powder-horns of my warriors; they may be compelled to fight all day.”
Soon loud yells were heard along the road to the Indian village.
“Ho, ho! Tawasuota u ye do!” (“He is coming; he is coming!”) shouted the warriors in chorus.