for him?"

"We don't bury dead Indians," said Raoul. "Let them rot. Let the
buzzards get fat on them." He raised his voice. "Every man mount up and
chase the ones there in the woods across the creek. This may be our
chance to finish Black Hawk."

"What happened to that other Injun that ran away?" Greenglove asked.

"We got him," a militiaman said. "He made it almost to the river. But
he's got enough lead in him now to start his own mine."

Grief filled White Bear's motionless body. Little Crow and Three Horses,
both killed. Three Horses' death had given him back his life. Three
Horses, the first Sauk to greet him on his return to the tribe. His two
comrades surely deserved to escape death as much as he did. Why had he
alone been spared? He wanted to cry out, as sorrow for his fallen
comrades tore into him, but he drew in his lower lip. He bit down on it
hard, clenching his teeth in his flesh until he felt no pain anywhere
else, in mind or body.

_Good-bye, Three Horses. Good-bye, Little Crow. I will burn tobacco to
the spirits for you._

Boots clumped through the prairie grass all around him. Hoof-beats
pounded past him. He feared he would be trampled, and it took
back-breaking effort to hold still. But the horses avoided his body.

Gradually the thundering passage of Raoul's men died away to the north.

* * * * *

For a long time White Bear heard nothing but the creek rippling over its
bed of stones, the wind in the trees, crickets buzzing on the prairie.
Tiny creatures tickled his flesh as they hurried over his face and body.
To them he had already become part of the earth.

The burning in his ear settled down to a numb ache.

He heard the crack of rifle shots a long way off. Raoul's men, pursuing
Black Hawk's scouts. Must more of his brothers die tonight?

He opened his eyes. It was now very dark; full night had fallen. He was
lying on his left side in tall grass. He took a chance and raised his
head a little way. Raoul had said he wanted no men to stay behind, but
there might be someone about.

He dropped his head and tensed his hands and arms. The rope around his
wrists had loosened. He could twist his wrists till the fingers of his
right hand reached the knot. Pale eyes knew little about tying secure
knots. After working patiently for a long time he freed his hands.

He still felt sick with grief, and did not have the strength to move
away from this place where his co