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Updated: May 25, 2025
He was a unit in that immense throng that waited impatiently for the hour of noon a countless host, stretching along the north on the boundary of the Cherokee Strip, on the south, at the edge of the Cherokee Nation; on the east, along the Kickapoo and Pottawatomie reservations; and on the west, blackening the extremity of the Cheyenne and Arapaho countries.
All of this was destroyed. Thirty-four prisoners were taken and a captive released. After encamping in the town for the night, Wilkinson started the next morning for the Kickapoo town "in the prairie."
"Command me!" he said, gallantly. "Well, it's awful, and the girls are too mean to live. But they are getting even with me, they say, for something I did last fall." "All right." Vic was waiting, graciously. "A lot of us have broken some of the rules of the Sorority and it's decreed that I must go over the route we came home by on the night of the storm down in the Kickapoo Corral.
"Well, stay with them this time, you little wandering Jew," Vic admonished, nor dreamed how his guardian angel had come to him this day in the guise of this same little wanderer. When Victor and Elinor had come at last to the west bluff above the Walnut River, the late afternoon was already casting long shadows across the grassy level of the old Kickapoo Corral.
A Kickapoo Indian in full war-paint, arriving suddenly in a little English village, could not have created more excitement than she did at Tarrong.
The Kickapoo town that Wilkinson was headed for was in fact about sixty miles from Kenapacomaqua and in the prairie. But it was south and west of the Eel river villages instead of north and west. The imperfect geographical knowledge of the times led Wilkinson to believe it was on the Illinois river, but it was in fact on Big Pine creek, near the present town of Oxford, in Benton County, Indiana.
Here are the last entries in the journal that has been our guide so long across the continent and back again to the haunts of men: "Sunday, September 21st, we proceeded; and as several settlements have been made during our absence, we were refreshed with the sight of men and cattle along the banks. We also passed twelve canoes of Kickapoo Indians, going on a hunting-excursion.
But Wilkinson was not destined to strike this main Kickapoo town.
"And that's a good horse, too; only you want to 'ware heels. I remember that he's a kicker." "Oh! Fatty don't keer if his fust name's Kickapoo," jeered Fred. The black and white pony gave Obendorf all the work he wanted for some minutes, however, and afforded the spectators much excitement. He wasn't a bucking bronco, but he showed plainly his dislike for human management.
Here he was placed in the custody of Captain Martin, of the Kickapoo Rangers, who proved a kind jailer, and materially assisted in protecting him from the dangerous intentions of the mob which at that time held Leavenworth under a reign of terror. Mrs.
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