were startled at a late
hour by a tap upon the window at the head of our bed, and a call of
"Chon! Chon!"[54] (John! John!)

"Tshah-ko-zhah?" (What is it?)

It was Hoo-wau-ne-kah, the Little Elk. He spoke rapidly, and in a tone
of great agitation. I could not understand him, and I lay trembling, and
dreading to hear his errand interpreted. Now and then I could
distinguish the words Sau-kee (Sauks) and Shoonk-hat-tay-rah (horse),
and they were not very reassuring.

The trouble, I soon learned, was this. A fresh trail had been observed
near the Petit Rocher, on the Wisconsin, and the people at the villages
on the Barribault were in a state of great alarm, fearing it might be
the Sauks. There was the appearance of a hundred or more horses having
passed by this trail. Hoo-wau-ne-kah had been dispatched at once to
tell their Father, and to ask his advice.

After listening to all he had to communicate, his Father told him the
trail was undoubtedly that of General Henry's troops, who were said to
have come north, looking for the enemy; that as the marks of the horses'
hoofs showed them, by this report, to have been shod, that was
sufficient proof that it was not the trail of the Sauks. He thought that
the people at the villages need not feel any uneasiness.

"Very well, Father," replied Hoo-wau-ne-kah; "I will go back and tell my
people what you say. They will believe you, for you always tell them the
truth. You are not like us Indians, who sometimes deceive each other."
So saying, he returned to his friends, much comforted.

The completion of the picketing and other defences, together with the
arrival of a detachment of troops from Fort Howard under Lieutenant
Hunter, at our fort, now seemed to render the latter the place of
greatest safety. We therefore regularly, every evening immediately
before dusk, took up our line of march for the opposite side of the
river, and repaired to quarters that had been assigned us within the
garrison, leaving our own house and chattels to the care of the
Frenchmen and our friends the Winnebagoes.

It was on one of these days that we were sitting at the windows which
looked out over the Portage--indeed, we seldom sat anywhere else, our
almost sole occupation being to look abroad and see what was coming
next--when a loud, long, shrill whoop from a distance gave notice of
something to be heard. "The news-halloo! what could it portend? What
were we about to hear?" By gazing intently towa