down there. White Bear scrambled down the ladder of tree
limbs he had climbed.

As he reached the lowest limb, moonlight showed Wegner rolling over, his
eyes gleaming. The rifle barrel swung toward him.

_He heard me._

White Bear leaped.

The flash blinded him for an instant. In a suffocating cloud of powder
smoke he hit Wegner's chest with knees and hands, an impact that knocked
the breath from him. Wegner screamed in pain, a high, womanish sound
that made White Bear's ears ring more than the shot had.

The Prussian, under him, battered him with the rifle, trying to turn it
so that he could hit him with the butt. White Bear had both hands on the
stock, and tried to kick Wegner's knee as their bodies bucked and
thrashed at the base of the oak.

White Bear remembered that militiamen often carried hunting knives in
shirt pockets. Gripping Wegner's rifle with one hand, he reached down
the front of the Prussian's leather jacket. Wegner's eyes widened in
fear, and he thrust frantically with his rifle. White Bear felt the
handle of a knife and pulled it free. The broad steel blade twinkled,
reflecting moon and stars.

Now. One thrust into his enemy's throat.

White Bear slid the point under the bandanna around Wegner's neck and
pressed it into the soft place just above the collarbone. The man's eyes
seemed about to pop out of his head. His thick, dark mustache was drawn
back from his clenched teeth.

Trying to make himself kill the man, White Bear felt as sick in his
stomach as he had when he was waiting for Raoul's bullet.

And he remembered again, the night after Raoul had driven him out of
Victoire and offered fifty pieces of eight for his death, what he had
heard Otto Wegner say.

He did not push the knife any farther. But he realized that Wegner would
still kill him, given any chance. He held himself ready to strike.

"Drop your rifle," he whispered. "Slide it away from you. Make a sudden
move and I'll cut your throat."

Wegner did as White Bear told him.

He said, "You are keeping me alive to torture me."

If he brought Wegner back to the Sauk, White Bear thought, the warriors
would want to kill him slowly. Again he felt that hot shame.

"Do you know who I am?" he asked.

"You are Raoul de Marion's nephew, Auguste. How can you be still alive?
I saw Greenglove shoot you."

White Bear ignored the question. "Three of us came to you under a white
flag to talk peace, and you shot us."

"It was wron