“Let us take a stand on the bluff by the river, with the strongest of our warriors,” proposed the fertile-minded Ne-a-pope. “Then—”
“Ugh!” grunted the thick-headed Wolf, failing to perceive the scheme of the medicine-man. “Why so?”
“Beyond the bluff,” went on Ne-a-pope, “there is a path through the marsh, leading to a ford where the river can easily be crossed by our people.”
“Wise words, oh Ne-a-pope,” the Hawk swiftly replied, in tones of high praise. “By the time the Big Knives come up, it will be late afternoon. It is cloudy, and darkness will come early. If we can keep the pale-faces at bay till nightfall, we can slip away across the stream before morning. The white snakes will not follow us beyond the river, where lay tangled forests that the pale-face has never trod.”
“Ho, ho!” cried the Wolf, new hope in his savage heart, “We will yet work loose from the Big-Knife trap!”
CHAPTER 20
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Musket and Tomahawk
THE place at which the Sacs had chosen to stand and fight was admirably suited to such a delaying action as Black Hawk hoped to effect. It was a shallow valley, rimmed on the north by low hills, and on the south by steep bluffs known as the Wisconsin Heights. The valley itself was covered with rank grass to a height of six feet, while the slopes of the bluff were heavily wooded. In addition to these natural advantages, a light rain was starting to fall, and night was not more than three hours distant, as the cagy Hawk had noted.