Creek a while longer.

Owl Carver looked surprised. "After all you have suffered, do you not
want to return to your family?"

White Bear thought quickly. "There is a chance that murdering uncle of
mine is one of those lying on the ground somewhere around here. It would
be good to see him dead."

Owl Carver grunted. "I will tell Redbird that you are safe."

Fear and exertion had exhausted White Bear beyond ordinary fatigue, and
he had barely enough energy now to roll himself in a blanket by the
small fire. Unconsciousness hit him instantly.

In the morning he watched, sickened, as Wolf Paw not only scalped a long
knife who lay dead in the tall grass, but slashed open the man's woollen
trousers and sliced off his manly parts. Blood spattered over innocent
prairie flowers of violet and yellow, and a swarm of flies buzzed around
Wolf Paw, waiting to settle on the dead man when he moved away.

"Why do you do that?" White Bear demanded. "The Sauk have never done
such things to a dead enemy before."

"The Winnebago Prophet says that the long knives are planning to kill
all Sauk men, and then bring up black men from the country to the south
to mate with our women. That way they hope to breed a race of slaves.
This is our answer to that."

The story sounded absurd to White Bear. The pale eyes in Illinois didn't
even keep black slaves. Just more of the Winnebago Prophet's babblings.
But Wolf Paw firmly believed it.

At a sudden drumming of hooves, Wolf Paw and White Bear both looked
south at Old Man's Creek. A Sauk warrior splashed through, waving his
arm.

"Long knives coming!" he shouted.

Wolf Paw picked up two rifles, his own and the dead man's. They had
found eleven bodies scattered along the edge of the Rock River, none of
them Raoul's.

White Bear was disappointed, but not surprised, that Raoul had managed
to escape. Surely he deserved killing more than any of his followers who
did die. But White Bear had not stayed behind just to see Raoul dead.

In fact, it was a relief that the spirits had not answered White Bear's
forbidden prayer.

He kept looking for movement out of the corner of his eye, trying to see
whether Otto Wegner was anywhere about. But he saw no sign of him.

"How many long knives?" Wolf Paw said to the scout as he rode up. "Can
we fight them?"

The scout's hand slashed a no. "Too many. Fifty at least. All on
horseback. And they have a wagon with them."

"Coming to collect their dead,