“Good!” exclaimed Ne-a-pope. “Blue-coats from fort have not yet come.”
“Blue-coats from fort maybe camp for night at the ferry,” observed the Wolf, shrewdly hitting the nail on the head.
“Let us then, oh Black Hawk,” urged Ne-a-pope, “give attack before the blue-coats come.”
“Blue-coats heap brave,” warned the Wolf. “Fight like wild-cats.”
“Your words are well meant,” mused Black Hawk, “but I yet hope to keep more blood from spilling.”
“Ugh!” snarled the Wolf disgustedly.
“How so?” asked Ne-a-pope skeptically.
“At daybreak I will send out three braves with a white flag to the pale-face camp. I will demand that the pale-faces withdraw from the Sac lands within the hour. Otherwise, I will order an attack.”
“A wise plan,” declared the medicine man, Walking Cloud, disregarding the protestations of Ne-a-pope and the Wolf, “and one which will place the blame for further warfare on the pale-faces. If they do not retreat, give them the tomahawk.”
“It is a fool’s scheme,” averred Ne-a-pope bluntly.