White Bear heard distant shots.
Earthmaker, let Three Horses live!
If Three Horses had not run when he did, White Bear would not be alive now. But White Bear remembered with anguish that he had seen Little Crow die.
Oh, my brother! Even though half dead with pain and terror himself, he mourned the brave who had died before his eyes.
Blood pounded in White Bear's head. Night was growing steadily deeper. By not moving and by taking only the tiniest breaths he might appear to be dead. He lay with his mutilated right ear uppermost. He felt streams of blood running like lines of ants over his scalp and his cheek. They tickled his neck. To lie perfectly still was agony.
White Bear heard Raoul's voice say, "Make sure of him, Eli."
"Damn hellfire nation!" Eli came back. "Don't I know when I've put a man under?"
"It's dark and you've had a lot of whiskey. Make sure of him."
"Pure waste of time," said Greenglove.
White Bear heard footsteps rustling through the grass toward him. The effort of keeping himself from moving threatened to tear his muscles from his bones. His heart beat harder as the steps came closer. Surely Greenglove could hear its thudding. But he froze himself and held his breath as the feet stopped beside him. In stillness was his only hope. The pain throbbed in his ear.