s. And General Winfield Scott is coming across the
Great Lakes with five hundred more Federal troops. With all that help,
we'll finish Black Hawk.

"And we must finish him. The murders and massacres will not stop as long
as Black Hawk and his tribe are on the loose. If you go back to your
farms and settlements, there'll be a dozen of you in one place and
twenty in another. And one morning or night you'll find yourself facing
a war party of a hundred, hundred fifty braves, like the people at Apple
River and Victor did. Our strength is in our numbers, and while we are
three thousand and more together, we've got to seek out the British Band
of the Sauk and Fox and destroy them."

Raoul heard a murmur of assent. His heart lifted. The little colonel was
winning them over, and the war would go on.

"In plain English, gentlemen and fellow citizens, my orders from
Washington City are to pursue Black Hawk wherever he goes, and to take
the Illinois militia with me. I mean to do both. Now, there are the
flatboats drawn up on the shore." He paused, then slid down from his
perch on the barrel and, standing very straight, pointed over their
heads. "And here are Uncle Sam's men, drawn up behind you on the
prairie."

Taylor was so short that only the men near him could see where he was
pointing. They turned first, and then in an ever-widening ring the men
in the farther reaches of the crowd turned to look at the long,
blue-clad line stretched behind them like a chain.

Raoul heard resignation in the militiamen's voices.

"Boys, I'm for the flatboats."

"Me too. I signed up to fight Injuns, not Americans."

A man called out, "Hell, Colonel, we're _all_ Uncle Sam's men."

Taylor smiled, reached up to settle his mottled hat on his head, and
said, "Then I will be proud to lead you."

He strode through the assembly.

At the edge of the crowd he turned and raised his voice. "Officers,
assemble your men. We'll take the troops over first, then the horses. I
want everyone on the other side by noon."

Taylor walked over to Raoul, squinted at him and sniffed audibly.

"You look like the backside of hell, sir. You been drinking this early
in the day?"

"I haven't touched whiskey this morning," Raoul said, not adding that it
was only because when he woke up all the jugs in his tent were empty.

"Well, then you were drinking damned late last night. Appearing in front
of these unruly men looking like a sot is no way to get them to o