Potawatomi chiefs, despite Flying
Cloud's prophecy, had refused to join Black Hawk in fighting the long
knives or even to give his people supplies or let them remain long in
Potawatomi territory. Black Hawk himself had been forced to admit that
the only way to spare the band further hardship would be to go quietly
back across the Great River.

To do that, he had to make peace with the long knives. Frightened though
he was, White Bear, as the only member of the tribe who spoke fluent
English, felt he must go with Black Hawk's emissaries.

White Bear's shoulders slumped in discouragement as he thought how Black
Hawk and the rest of the band had been led astray. _No_ other tribes
were willing to ally themselves with the British Band. There had been
_no_ truth at all to the Winnebago Prophet's talk of aid from the
British in Canada.

A delegation headed by Broth, the tribe's best speaker, had gone to the
British fort at Malden, near Detroit, to ask for help. They had been
sent back with the advice that the Sauk had better learn to live in
peace with the Americans.

The people of Prophet's Town had left their homes with Black Hawk's band
more out of fear of the oncoming long knives than out of a desire to
help Black Hawk fight for Saukenuk. As Black Hawk's prospects worsened,
most of them drifted away, even though the Prophet himself remained at
Black Hawk's side.

Black Hawk had believed the Prophet because his promises gave the
British Band the courage to defy the long knives. To White Bear's
disgust, even now, when it was clear that Flying Cloud had simply made
it all up, Black Hawk had forgiven the Prophet.

White Bear burned with resentment.

_They mocked me when I told them the truth. That fat, posturing toad
lied to them and they still honor him. Surely a false shaman is the
worst kind of liar._

White Bear rode on Little Crow's right. As the oldest of the three men,
Little Crow carried the white flag. Torn from a sheet the braves had
found in a settler's hastily abandoned cabin, the flag was tied to a
spear shaft from which the head had been removed. On Little Crow's left
rode Three Horses.

Since they were not riding into battle, they had not taken any of the
saddles with stirrups from the band's supply but were mounted with only
blankets between themselves and the horses' backs. The three of them
had painted their faces black, because they might be going to their
deaths. But it was hard to believe that