In a moment all was
terror and confusion. Too well the Illinois knew the meaning of
these cries. The savage strangers from beyond the prairie had
come at last.
The attack had been so sudden and fierce that the Illinois could
not defend themselves. They scattered and fled far into the woods
on the other side of the little river. Then, one by one, they
came together in a rocky glen where they could hide from danger.
But even there they could hear the yells of their foes, and they
could see the black smoke that rose from their burning wigwams.
What could they do, now that this ruin had at last come upon
them? The bravest among them were in despair. They threw their
bows upon the ground. The warriors were gloomy and silent. They
said it was useless to fight with foes so strong and fierce. The
women and children wept as though heartbroken.
But at the very moment when all seemed lost, a young girl stood
up among them. She had been well known in the little village. Her
thoughtful, quiet ways had endeared her to old and young alike.
Her name was Watseka.
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