"Why did you stay here?" Raoul asked.
"We do not think Black Hawk can win. We hope the long knives will treat kindly those who do not make war on them."
Raoul said, "Where has Black Hawk gone? What is he planning? Where are the people who were living in this town?"
"I promised the Winnebago Prophet I would say nothing about where they went. I will be accursed if I break my promise."
"The Winnebago Prophet's curse is nothing. You should be more afraid of me."
Little Foot remained stone-faced and silent.
What a pleasure to have a bunch of Potawatomi right where he could do anything he wanted to them.
A light rain started to patter down on the bark roofs and the hard-packed earth.
While Raoul had been talking with the Indians, more militiamen had reached Prophet's Town. Columns of men on horseback, four abreast, came to a halt in the grassland to the south of the village and fell out at their officers' commands. They climbed off their horses and walked them.
Otto Wegner rode up and dismounted.