“Quick! Before he can reload!” cried Robert, and at full speed he darted forward toward the tree which sheltered their enemy.
“Follow him! Follow him!” shouted Mason. “Two on each side.”
Robert was the first to reach the spot, but the Sac had fled. A movement in the bushes close at hand warned him of the Indian’s presence, however, and quickly raising his rifle he fired. He saw a body fall, crashing to the ground and knew that his aim had been true.
“Bob!” shouted Joseph. “Look out! Behind you!”
Robert unconsciously dropped to the ground in response to his brother’s warning. He was not a second too soon. A tomahawk whizzed over his head and buried itself deep in the trunk of a nearby tree. Robert shuddered as he realized how narrow an escape he had had. The brave who had made this attempt on his life, however, did not long escape the attention of his intended victim’s companions. Three rifles spoke almost at the same instant and one more Sac was added to those already lost by Black Hawk.
“We’d better keep under cover more,” Mason advised when Robert had rejoined his comrades. “It’s all right to dash out and chase Indians from behind trees but it’s risky business.”
“We must do it if we are going to win,” protested Robert.
“Not at all,” retorted Mason. “We’ll drive them off all right without having to expose ourselves as much as you did.”
The noise was terrific. The reports of the guns filled the air and the constant whoops of the Indians added a weird note to the din. How often the two brothers had heard the war whoop. This time, however, it was tempered by the shouts and cheers of the troops and its effect consequently was not as horrifying.
“Here comes Atkinson!” cried Joseph suddenly. The fight had been in progress for half an hour and General Henry’s men were more than holding their own.