Owl Carver went on. "White Bear saw long knives dying. White Bear's vision foretells victory for the British Band."
From all around the campfire he heard grunts of approval at Owl Carver's words. White Bear's heart felt lost and sinking, like a stone thrown into the Great River.
"Listen!" he cried. "Owl Carver is my father in spirit, but he did not see this vision or feel its sadness. I did. I stood there before the Turtle, and I know that what he showed me was a warning. If the British Band takes to the path of war, Black Hawk will be Sharp Knife's prisoner."
Shouts of protest erupted around him. He saw Little Crow come back to the fire with a bundle of bright red and blue cloth in his hands.
White Bear spoke on over the outcry. "Listen! When I saw the long knives dying, more and more of them came forward, and their numbers were endless. They were not fighting our warriors. They were fighting other long knives. The vision said that there would be many, many long knives in summers and winters to come, so many that they would fight each other."
Owl Carver said in a voice just loud enough for White Bear to hear, "Say no more. You do great harm."
"I must say more. You have asked me to speak. Now I must tell what I know. You must listen. The Turtle also spoke to me. He said, 'The many who follow Black Hawk across the Great River will be few when they cross back.'"
After a moment's hesitation Owl Carver lifted his hands. "They will be few because we will win back our land on the other side and stay there."
Before White Bear could answer, Black Hawk stood up, his face in the firelight a mask of wrath. White Bear trembled.
"Black Hawk will never be Sharp Knife's prisoner!" the war chief roared. "Black Hawk will die first."