words. Little Crow had been the one who brought the woman's dress that
Wolf Paw had put on him that wretched night of the council.

_They did not listen to me that night. The Turtle told me I would not be
able to persuade the people not to cross the Great River, but I tried my
best._

They entered the wood by way of a narrow trail, riding single file.
Little Crow lowered the white flag to keep it from getting caught in the
branches.

As they rode among the trees, the tightness of fear in White Bear's
chest and stomach grew worse, until he had to struggle for breath. His
palms sweat so much, the reins were slippery in his hands.

He turned and waved farewell to Iron Knife and the four other braves
following them, who had halted their ponies at the edge of the woods and
dismounted. They waved back. A moment more and White Bear looked back
and could see them no more.

_At least if I die today Iron Knife can tell Redbird how it came about._

He tried to guess how the long knives would greet them. They might shoot
them down in spite of the white flag. He hoped they would be glad to
learn that Black Hawk wanted to surrender and return in peace to Ioway.
After all, that was what they were trying to force him to do, was it
not? But some of the long knives, undoubtedly, wanted to kill "Injuns."
Men like Raoul.

When they came out of the south edge of the woods, they found themselves
on a grassy rise sloping down to a winding stream called Old Man's
Creek. The sun was lower now and directly in White Bear's eyes. Across
the creek was a sight that made him want to jerk his pony's head around
and ride back into the trees as fast as he could go.

On high ground he saw the silhouettes of peaked tents and many men, some
on horseback and some on foot, rifles in hand. The smoke of campfires
drifted like gray feathers into the pale blue sky. He heard voices
calling to one another in English. One man shouted and pointed in their
direction.

White Bear said, "Don't wait here at the edge of the trees, or they will
think we are attackers. Ride forward slowly, waving the flag."

The men across the creek were yelling excitedly now. Rifle fire crackled
and smoke billowed. A ball whizzed past White Bear and cracked a tree
limb behind him. He held himself rigid.

Long knives rode toward them, urging their horses down the far side of
the creekbank. White Bear and his companions rode into the creek to meet
them.

In a moment bearded w