They armed themselves with the bows and the hatchets which the
warriors had thrown upon the ground. Those who could find nothing
else, picked up stones and sticks. The boys joined them, their
eyes flashing with eagerness. All felt that Watseka would lead
them to victory.

Then it was that courage came into the hearts of the warriors.

"Are we men, and do we let the women and boys thus outdo us?"
they cried. "No, we alone will drive our foes from our home. We
alone will avenge our kinsmen whom they have slain. We will fear
nothing. We will never rest until we have won back all that we
have lost!"

And so Watseka and the women and boys did not go into battle. But
the warriors of the Illinois in the darkness of the night crept
silently back through the shadows of the wood. While their foes
lay sleepng by the fires of the burning wigwams, they swept down
upon them like a thunderbolt from the clear sky. Their revenge
was swift and terrible.

And so the Illinois were again at peace, for the fierce warriors
who dwelt on the other side of the prairie dared never molest
them again. And they rebuilt their wigwams by the side of the
pleasant river, and there they lived in comfort for many long
years. Nor did they ever forget how the maiden, Watseka, had
saved them in their hour of greatest need. The story of her
bravery was told and retold a thousand times; the warriors talked
of her beauty; the women praised her goodness; other tribes heard