would come to see him; he wished to hold a council with him, as he had given up all intention of going to war.  At the conclusion of this talk, a party of white men came in on horseback.  We saw by their countenances that something had happened.  A general tumult arose.  They looked at us with indignation—­talked among themselves for a moment, when several cocked their guns; in a second they fired at us in the crowd; our companion fell dead.  We rushed through the crowd and made our escape.  We remained in ambush but a short time, before we heard yelling, like Indians running an enemy.  In a little while we saw some of the whites in full speed.  One of them came near us.  I threw my tomahawk and struck him on the head, which brought him to the ground.  I ran to him and with his own knife took off his scalp.  I took his gun, mounted his horse, and took my friend here behind me.  We turned to follow our braves, who were running the enemy, and had not gone far before we overtook a white man, whose horse had mired in a swamp.  My friend alighted and tomahawked the man, who was apparently fast under his horse.  He took his scalp, horse and gun.  By this time our party was some distance ahead.  We followed on and saw several white men lying dead on the way.  After riding about six miles, we met our party returning.  We asked them how many of our men had been killed.  They said none after the Americans had retreated.  We inquired then how many whites had been killed?  They replied they did not know; but said we will soon ascertain, as we must scalp them as we go back.  On our return we found ten men, besides the two we had killed before we joined our friends.  Seeing that they did not yet recognize us, it being dark, we again asked, how many of our braves had been killed?  They said five.  We asked who they were.  They replied that the first party of three, who went out to meet the American war chief, had all been taken prisoners, and killed in the encampment; and that out of a party of five who followed to see the meeting of the first party and the whites, two had been killed.  We were now certain that they did not recognize us, nor did we tell them who we were, until we arrived at our camp.  The news of our death had reached it some time before, and all were surprised to see us again."[8]

Such is the narrative of this defeat, as given by Black Hawk, and two of his men who were the bearers of his white flag and a proposition to surrender.  The accounts given by Major Stillman’s troops—­for it is not ascertained that the commander published any official statement of the battle—­is in substance about the following.  The force under Major Stillman, two hundred and seventy-five in number, on the afternoon of the fourteenth of May, met three Indians bearing a white flag, one of whom, after having been taken prisoner, was shot down.  The army encamped just before sunset, in a piece of woods, surrounded by an open prairie, about three miles from Sycamore