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Scouts of the Prairie
THE weather continued warm and dry, and by late afternoon of the second day the four, fast-traveling scouts had arrived at Kellogg’s Grove, a tiny hamlet forty-five miles to the northwest of Dixon’s Ferry. Here they talked with several settlers who had taken part some weeks earlier in the bloody skirmish with Black Hawk’s prowling braves. They also visited the graves of the ten unfortunate whites who had been shot down and scalped in the melee.
“But we kilt more’n a score o’ the Hawk’s men,” declared a survivor grimly. “We tuk two lives fer one.”
Camp was made for the night in a sheltered opening in the timber. The dry grass that littered the campsite made excellent tinder. It was lighted by sparks from the flint, and fed by broken branches and bits of light wood. Soon there shot up a cheerful flame. Bill Brown, who was a veteran axe-man, proceeded to fell a small dead tree, to serve in setting up the little tent, which they had brought along on their one pack-horse. Bright Star went to the nearby creek to get water.
Otherwise, they were traveling light, carrying on the pack-horse, in addition to the tent, only a tea-kettle, a water bucket, and some extra ammunition; while each rider toted his own tin cup and hunting knife. The knife was a handy article at meal time. Its first duty was to stir the tea, and secondly to cut the ham and bread. The meal being finished, the utensils were rinsed in hot water and set aside till morning. A wisp of dry grass was employed to wipe the knife before returning the blade to its sheath.
Afterwards, they sat before the tent until dark, chuckling at the awkward movements of the spanceled horses, as they hobbled from one spot to another in search of tender pasturage.
At the first indication of daylight, following a night of refreshing slumber, the whites were aroused by the lusty shout of Bright Star, who had stood the last watch.
“Ho! ho!” he yelled.
The pale-faces jumped up abruptly from their blankets. The fire, which had been allowed to die down in the evening, was soon nursed into a hot flame. The horses were caught and saddled, and the tent taken down, while breakfast, similar to the meal of the evening before, was being prepared. Finishing with that, they once more rinsed kettles and cups, loaded the pack-horse and tied their cups to their own saddle-bows. Then they quickly mounted and rode away, leaving behind only a heap of feebly smoking ashes to tell of their visit.