OLIVER W. HALL.
The creek was lined on both sides with tall willows, while just a little to the north the ground was covered with a growth of small black oak trees, denominated generally scrub oak. These same “scrub oak,” grown to thrice the thickness of a man’s body, stand to this day, and, judging from a present-day standpoint, one can easily see how a handful of resolute men could defend themselves there against overwhelming odds. To the willows the horses were tied, fires were made, coffee pots put to boiling and a general preparation for supper was going forward, when three Indians appeared in camp bearing a white flag.[[120]] They were taken in, but in the haste of supper preparations and the absence of an interpreter, their mission, if for peace, was not discovered at once. As a matter of fact, however, Black Hawk had in his lifetime disregarded so many treaties and flags of truce, that it is no small wonder some of the men were for dispatching them on the spot. An abiding sense of his many misfeasances, no doubt, prompted him to station five other Indians on a neighboring hill, some three-quarters of a mile to the north, where they might watch and report the manner in which his flag was received. The presence of these five Indians on the hill, unexplained, may rightfully be styled a misprision, and sufficient to set the camp into a spasm of turmoil. About twenty of Eads’ men mounted their horses to charge the five Indians, who in turn wheeled to run away. This action was taken by the excited and undisciplined troops to mean a retreat, and Eads’ men immediately began firing upon their retiring foe. Other small squads joined the haphazard pursuit, in the course of which two of the five Indians were killed.
The camp became a bedlam, and while Stillman, Bailey, Adams, Eads and other officers tried desperately to restrain the troops and restore order, as well might they have commanded the rains to cease and the sun to return for half an hour as to have expected obedience from those raw and independent spirits. They were having the “fun” for which they had enlisted.
Black Hawk the while was at the mouth of the creek with half a hundred warriors, where he had been giving a dog feast to Shabbona, Waubansee and other influential Pottowatomies in his frantic efforts to secure reinforcements against the whites.
The interchange of shots ahead led those in camp to believe that a general engagement was upon them, whereupon Thomas B. Reed of Eads’ company shot down in cold blood one of the three bearers of the flag of truce, an offense so dastardly as to permit of no excuse. It may be urged that the troops were frenzied by excitement or dazed with the thought that the 800 Indians were coming down upon them like an avalanche, but such was not the case; it was part of the program of “fun” which impelled it. The confusion which followed permitted the two remaining Indians of the party of three to escape and join in the massacre of the whites which followed soon after. Squads of two, three and more continued to leave camp to join the chase, presenting in the twilight a thin and irregular line, without order and without a head, until nearly four miles were covered by these stragglers.
As had been adroitly arranged, no doubt, by the survivors of the party of five, the foremost of the pursuers were suddenly plunged into Black Hawk’s presence, behind a growth of chaparral at the mouth of the creek, where this wily old savage had arranged his braves, few in number, but many more than the first white arrivals, and the instant the whites appeared the Indians sent up whoops, shrieks and howls calculated to frighten even a brave man. As the savages dashed headlong into the advance column, or rather squad, of the whites, with the spirit and suddenness of an electric shock, the reckless pursuers realized their awful temerity, and the futility of fighting, even under careful protection and with the full strength of the battalions, what might be the 800 warriors known to belong to Black Hawk’s command.
Stunned by the sudden and furious onslaught of Black Hawk, the troops wheeled to retreat, yelling as they fled “Injuns! Injuns!” (like the madmen they now truly became), that their approaching comrades might in turn retreat to safety. In no time at all the cry had reached camp, which became as panic-stricken as the returning troopers.[[121]]
At the foot of the hill on which the five Indians had rested James Doty of Eads’ company was killed, and while many of the horses became mired in the mud of the creek, Gideon Munson, a Government scout, was also slain. As the troops came headlong on, Captain Adams,[[122]] than whom no braver man ever lived, attempted to make a stand with a handful of companions upon the brow of the hill which lies about half a mile to the south of the creek, to cover the retreat of the fugitives. Darkness was upon them and they had no reason to believe that less than the full force of 800 was upon them, yet they stood their ground to sell their lives as dearly as possible to save those who by the delay might reach points of safety.