“He heard the noise,” exclaimed Mason. “I’m sorry for it, too. After the way he treated General Henry he doesn’t deserve to be in this at all.”
“It will finish it up quicker, that’s all,” said Robert, who was feverishly engaged in reloading his rifle. He was intent upon doing his full share in the battle and he was fearful that he might waste a moment.
“They’ll be nearly surrounded now,” remarked Joseph. “This is the end of Black Hawk, I guess.”
The battle now degenerated into a massacre. The Indians put up a stubborn defense until the last, but their case was hopeless. They were outnumbered and they were also weakened by lack of food. The nature of the ground was to their advantage, however. Deep ravines, old logs, swamp holes, high grass and weeds abounded, providing excellent protection to the warriors. Knowing that they were doomed they fought desperately, determined to sell their lives as dearly as possible.
“This is too much for me,” exclaimed Joseph at length.
“What’s the matter, Joe?” demanded Robert.
“I can fight, but I can’t slaughter people,” replied Joseph with a shudder.
“I was just thinking the same thing,” remarked John Mason. “I saw one of our men shoot a wounded Indian a few minutes ago. That settles me.”
“It’s awful,” cried Joseph. “This isn’t war. It is butchery.”
“They butchered us, though,” Robert maintained stoutly. “Why shouldn’t we give them what they gave us?”