men might be killed on this
beautiful afternoon in the middle of the Moon of Buds. A warm breeze
blew over White Bear's bare chest and arms. Red, blue and yellow prairie
flowers scattered over the land, as uncountable as the stars, delighted
his eye in spite of his fear. All around him he heard red-winged
blackbirds singing their spring challenges.

White Bear had left with Owl Carver everything he valued: his medicine
stick, his Sauk medicine bag and his other bag of pale eyes' medical
instruments, his megis-shell necklace, his brass and silver ornaments,
his _Paradise Lost_, the deerhorn-handled knife his father had long ago
given him. He had nothing with him but the clothing he wore, fringed
buckskin leggings and a buckskin vest decorated with blue and green
quillwork in diamond patterns.

He looked back and saw five mounted braves an arrow flight behind him on
the prairie. Even from this distance he could tell that the tall one in
the middle was Iron Knife. They would watch from hiding and would report
back to Black Hawk how the long knives treated his peace messengers.
Black Hawk himself, with Owl Carver, the Winnebago Prophet, Wolf Paw and
about forty braves, waited a few miles farther up the Rock River at the
place where he had met with the Potawatomi chiefs.

White Bear saw a small stand of woods ahead. Scouts had reported that
beyond those woods, across Old Man's Creek, the long knives had set up
camp. Glowing from behind young green leaves, set aflutter by the
breeze, the setting sun dropped flecks of gold onto the blackened faces
of White Bear's two companions. It would be almost nightfall by the time
they encountered the long knives.

Three Horses said, "A man must be more brave, I think, to do this than
to ride up to an enemy in battle and strike the first blow at him." His
nose curved inward where the bridge should have been. White Bear had
learned that a Sioux war club had done that to him while Auguste was
studying Latin and geometry at St. George's School.

"I would much rather be fighting the long knives than trying to make
peace with them," said Little Crow. "I do not trust them."

White Bear tried to reassure them and himself. "We must do this. It is
the only way we can get our people safely back across the Great River."

Little Crow said, "It seems you were right and we who wanted to take up
the tomahawk were wrong."

In spite of his fear, White Bear felt a satisfied glow at Little Crow's