r Eagle Feather,
guiding him. Her son had been chosen to save the remnant of the band,
though only six summers had passed since his birth. She felt her mouth
trembling.

Eagle Feather put the mouthpiece of the pipe to his lips and drew in. A
deep puff. Though he was but six years old and had never smoked before,
he showed no pain as the hot smoke filled his tender mouth, nor did he
cough. Redbird's heart swelled with pride.

Eagle Feather blew the smoke out again. A single puff, according to
custom.

Wave's thick features were breaking in tearful relief.

Eagle Feather had known just what to do. And there could be no doubt in
anyone's mind that he meant to do what he had done. He held the pipe up
to Wave.

A new cry of pain rose from Black Hawk, and the Winnebago Prophet joined
him as loudly.

But Redbird's heart was happy. She hugged Floating Lily.

Their long agony was over at last.

Eagle Feather turned and walked back to her, straight and steady, as if
he had not been lying all day long unconscious. She quickly handed
Floating Lily to Wind Bends Grass, knelt down and held her arms out to
her son. He ran into them, and they held each other tightly.

"It was good that you smoked the pipe. Very good."

Eagle Feather said, "When the eagles came over the lake, my spirit self
whispered to me to eat from Grandfather's medicine bag. Then I went to
many strange places and saw many very bad things. The long knives killed
many people. At the end of it all, I lay in the lean-to and I heard a
voice say that if someone would smoke the calumet there would be peace.
And my father's spirit self, the White Bear, came to me and told me to
smoke."

_If White Bear had been here he would have smoked the calumet. I know he
would._

Owl Carver put his hand on Eagle Feather's shoulder.

"The boy is the grandson of Owl Carver and of Sun Woman. He is the son
of White Bear. He has had his first vision. It is foreordained that he
should be a Great Shaman."

Redbird felt flames burning under the skin of her face.

"He is the son of Redbird as well," she said, her voice shaking.

Owl Carver put his other hand on Redbird's shoulder. "Yes, he is your
son."

Suddenly his old face crumbled. "And all my other children are gone," he
wept. "Redbird, you are the only one left."

* * * * *

Redbird trembled as she saw Fort Crawford, a great square formed by long
stone lodges connected by log palisad