twenty years ago._

One thing was certain. Little Foot was Potawatomi. Raoul felt his
fingers tightening on his pistol as he held it at waist level.

Raoul turned to Levi Pope and some of his other Smith County boys who
were seated on horses nearby. "Tie them up."

Levi, who wore six pistols at his belt, all primed and loaded, got down
from his horse and unhooked a coiled rope from his saddle. "The squaws
and little ones too?"

"Put their families in one of the lodges and keep a guard on them."
Another thought occurred to him. "Eli, take some men and search these
huts. Make sure there aren't any more Indians hiding out somewhere in
this town."

Levi went to the red-turbaned Indian and pulled his arms down roughly to
his sides. In a moment he had Little Foot's hands securely tied behind
his back, while other grinning Smith County boys had done the same to
the other three Indian men.

"Ankles too," said Raoul, and Levi and his men cut lengths of rope and
knelt to hobble the Indians.

With his free hand Raoul took another long drink from the whiskey
canteen hanging from his saddle.

He walked close to Little Foot and looked him in the eye. He did not
like the way the Indian looked back at him. He saw no fear.

With a sudden movement he hooked his boot behind the Indian's hobbled
ankles and pushed him hard. Little Foot fell heavily to the ground on
his back, wincing with the unexpected pain.

As he pushed himself awkwardly into a sitting position, there was no
mistaking the hatred in the way he looked up at Raoul.

"Why did you stay here?" Raoul asked.

"We do not think Black Hawk can win. We hope the long knives will treat
kindly those who do not make war on them."

Raoul said, "Where has Black Hawk gone? What is he planning? Where are
the people who were living in this town?"

"I promised the Winnebago Prophet I would say nothing about where they
went. I will be accursed if I break my promise."

"The Winnebago Prophet's curse is nothing. You should be more afraid of
me."

Little Foot remained stone-faced and silent.

What a pleasure to have a bunch of Potawatomi right where he could do
anything he wanted to them.

A light rain started to patter down on the bark roofs and the
hard-packed earth.

While Raoul had been talking with the Indians, more militiamen had
reached Prophet's Town. Columns of men on horseback, four abreast, came
to a halt in the grassland to the south of the village and fell out