Robert loved to tease his red brother, however, and seeing how uncomfortable his words made Deerfoot he decided to continue them.
“You must make a bow, Deerfoot,” he continued. “Whenever a man saves another’s life he always has to make a bow.”
“No bow,” protested Deerfoot, looking about for some avenue of escape.
“Of course not,” exclaimed Joseph, coming to the rescue of the embarrassed Pottowattomie. “Don’t pay any attention to what he says, Deerfoot.”
The army turned in and soon most of the men were asleep. Everyone slept on his arms, for the region was infested with prowling Indians and no one wished to be taken unawares by a sudden attack. No incident of note occurred, however, until just about an hour and a half before the dawn of the following day. Joseph, naturally a light sleeper, awoke with a start. He had a strange feeling that someone had been talking to him. He sat up and looked about him. The stars were out and the camp was dimly illuminated by their ghostlike light. “I must have been dreaming,” thought Joseph.
Suddenly he realized that he had not been dreaming after all. A voice, loud, shrill, and speaking in an unknown tongue could be heard distinctly. The sound came from the direction of the knoll, which Black Hawk, seated on a white pony, had occupied during the battle.
“Wake up, Bob,” exclaimed Joseph excitedly. He shook his brother, who was instantly wide awake and on his feet. The rest of the camp was soon aroused and a great panic ensued. The strange voice continued to be heard and nearly every man present thought it was merely a prelude to a great attack on the part of the Indians.
“What is it, do you suppose?” exclaimed Robert in alarm.
“I’m sure I can’t tell you,” replied Mason. “It is certainly strange.”
“Let’s fire a volley in that direction,” cried Robert eagerly. “Perhaps if we do that it will show them we are prepared and they will be scared off.”