"Torture him, and make him confess!" said a third.
The old Indian stood bent and trembling.
"I am a wandering beggar, looking for my boy," said the Indian. "I never did the white man harm. Hear me."
"You belong to Black Hawk's devils," said an officer, "and you are plotting our death. You shall be shot. Seize him!"
The old Indian trembled as the men surrounded him bent on his destruction.
There came toward the excited company a tall young officer. All eyes were bent upon him. He peered into the face of the old Indian. The men rushed forward to obey the officer.
"Halt!" said the tall captain. "This Indian must not be killed by us."
That speaker was Abraham Lincoln. The men jeered at him, but he stood between the Indian and them, like a form of iron.
The Indian gave his protector a grateful look, and there dropped from his hand a passport, which in his confusion he had failed to give the officer. It was a certificate saying that he had rendered good service to the Government, and it was signed by General Cass.
"Why should you wish to save him?" asked a volunteer of young Lincoln. "Your grandfather was killed by an Indian. You are a coward!"