It was at this precise moment that the dangerous Prairie Wolf sped into view, astride his pony. His savage brain at once grasped the situation. This was the white renegade, ally of the Sacs, in the hands of the enemy. With a fierce whoop he pulled a gleaming war-hatchet from his belt, and sent it whizzing at Van Alstyne’s head. The unfortunate officer wheeled abruptly, as he heard the warning hoot. The whirling blade, keen as a razor, hit him full in the forehead with stunning force, and he fell motionless to the ground.
And thus perished the headstrong, but brave, Captain Van Alstyne, struck dead by a Sac war-hatchet at the battle of Stillman’s Run, which, aptly enough, was the name bestowed by contemporary historians on the disgraceful rout of the white volunteers.
CHAPTER 13
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A Daring Escape
MAJOR STILLMAN, veteran of many years on the border, realized that the situation of his little band was extremely dangerous. So far, the triumphant Sacs had not made an appearance. Their gloating yells and whoops, echoing through the timbered area, showed that they were still entranced with the rich spoils and loot of the captured camp. Presently, however, they would again turn their attention to the whites by the creek-side. Their sharp-shooters would swarm in like angry hornets.
“We must steal away,” declared the Major determinedly, “while the red villains are occupied with their pillaging.”
“It won’t be an easy task, sir,” asserted one of the lieutenants dubiously.
“I’ve been thinking of taking to the creek bed,” rejoined Stillman.