At this moment they emerged from the swamp onto the prairie. Night had fallen and the full moon was just appearing over the rim of the horizon. The three fugitives were thus assured of some light to guide them on their long ride. Well it was too, for at present it was not safe to halt. The opinion seemed to be that their foes would not attempt any pursuit, but of this they could not be sure. Their one idea was to put as much distance between them and their enemies as the condition of Joseph’s wound would permit. Thus far he was bearing up splendidly, but he was weak and could not be counted on for too great an exertion.
In silence they rode most of the time. Hour after hour passed and mile after mile was covered. The hardy ponies seemed tireless and with apparent ease maintained their steady gait across the plains. A halt was called about midnight so that men and horses might have a breathing spell, but after a short rest the journey was resumed. Not a sign of the enemy had they seen, but there was always the danger of encountering roving bands and the three fugitives were all intent upon reaching Dixon’s Ferry at the earliest possible moment.
As the first faint streaks of dawn appeared over the expanse of prairie the little settlement on the Rock River came into view. The sight spurred the tired travelers on and in a short time they were once more in the town and safe again. Safe at least until they should start out on their next expedition.
“Well, Joe,” exclaimed Robert, as he and Deerfoot lifted the wounded young volunteer from the back of The Swallow. “How do you feel after your ride?”
“All right,” said Joseph and promptly fainted. He had suffered much pain all through the long, hard night and had kept up on nerve alone. Now that the journey was ended he could resist no longer, but gave up entirely.
Robert and Deerfoot laid him tenderly upon the ground. “You stay here, Deerfoot,” exclaimed Robert, “and I’ll go and see about having Joe looked after in the hospital here.”
He hastened away and soon returned to say that all arrangements had been made to receive his brother in the hospital. In a short space of time Joseph was transferred to the house which temporarily served for that purpose. When Robert and Deerfoot were convinced that all arrangements had been made for his comfort, they left him there and sought their own quarters.
Dixon’s Ferry now presented a forlorn appearance. General Atkinson with the army had moved on up the Rock River, leaving Major Stillman’s corps at Dixon’s Ferry to care for the wounded and to guard the supplies. No sooner had Atkinson left, however, than practically every man in Stillman’s corps deserted and returned to his home. Disgracefully defeated, they now added further disgrace to their cowardly record by quitting their post.
The settlement was deserted except for a few of the men who had enough pride and patriotism to stick to their duty. All the supplies for the armies of Generals Atkinson and Whiteside were thus left practically unguarded. They were at the mercy of Black Hawk, should he choose to attack in force.
Robert was indignant and so was everyone else who remained. This did not bring the men back, however. Panic seemed to have seized the whole country. Black Hawk’s victory at Sycamore Creek had inspired the whole region with terror. Settlers fled from their homes, in many cases leaving all their valuables behind them. Sometimes even worse things than that happened. If they had not been so tragic they might have been amusing, as the following story, told to Robert by one of the men, illustrates.