Meantime, the squadron of rangers under Dodge, was pushing forward with renewed vigor, and shortly after four o’clock their scouts made contact with Black Hawk’s snipers on the low hills that bordered the grassy valley.
“Black Hawk is a smart Injun,” commented Bill Brown. “He’s picked out a powerful good place to fight.”
“You’re quite right,” agreed Dodge, apprehensively viewing the grass-grown valley and the sheer bluff beyond. “We had best wait, until General Henry comes up with the main force of the volunteers.”
“It ain’t long till dark, Colonel,” cautioned the veteran scout, dubious of delay.
“I know that, Brown,” responded Dodge worriedly, “but I feel that it would be folly to throw this small body of rangers against the whole Sac tribe. Their position is far too strong.”
“Hawk sly like fox,” put in Bright Star sagely. “Maybe slip out from snare.”
In a half-hour the vanguard of the volunteers arrived, and, after a hurried conference between Dodge and Henry, a charge was ordered. Every fourth man of the white column was detailed to hold the horses, while the rest of the troopers advanced on foot. The alert savages, sensing the plan, made a heavy counter-charge, yowling like madmen, and tried hard to flank the whites; but they were repulsed with considerable loss.
Badly stung, the Sacs forthwith abandoned the low hills and dropped back into the tall grass of the valley; where, after a half-hour of indecisive firing on both sides, another assault was ordered.
“Give them the bayonet, men!” roared General Henry, brandishing his long sword.
Dodge’s dare-devil rangers and about two hundred of the volunteers rushed over the hill and down the green slope, their bayonets gleaming wickedly, while their shrill cries of vengeance made the glade fairly echo. The cowed Sacs broke from the grass like frightened antelope, to the rising side of the bluff beyond.