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PERSONAL NARRATIVE.23
in hand, waiting for orders. I looked towards the barracks, bayonets bristled through the doors and windows. Black Hawk was in front; about ten Indians filled up the gateway; those in front, from the pressure of those in the rear, anxious to gain admittance within, were bent forward; the sentinel at the gate stood at a charge with his bayonet. The Indian directly in his front leaning with his nose nearly touching the
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