You have taken me prisoner with all my warriors. I am much grieved, for I expected, if I did not defeat you, to hold out much lo
nger, and give you more trouble before I surrendered. I tried hard to bring you into ambush, but your last general understands Indian fighting. The first one was not so wise. When I saw that I could not beat you by Indian fighting, I determined to rush on you, and fight you face to face. I fought hard. But your guns were well aimed. The bullets flew like birds in the air, and whizzed by our ears like the wind through the trees in the winter. My warriors fell around me; it began to look dismal. I saw my evil day at hand. The sun rose dim on us in the morning, and at night it sunk in a dark cloud, and looked like a ball of fire. That was the last sun that shone on Black Hawk. His heart is dead, and no longer beats quick in his bosom. He is now a prisoner to the white men; they will do with him as they wish. But he can stand torture, and is not afraid of death. He is no coward. Black Hawk is an Indian. In this paragraph, Black Hawk draws a distinction between
A) the Indian and the white man.
B) the last war, and the coming war.
C) his own heart and the heart of his warriors.
D) the most recent general of the U.S. army, and his predecessor.
The thing that they should do in that situation is: <span>you must slow to the slowest speed at which you can safely steer your vessel. The law enforcement probably want to do a quick checkup to you and you could only proceed after the officer clear you out from potential violations</span>
