I know that voice, that accent. It is the Prussian, Otto Wegner.
White Bear remembered how Wegner had disappointed him back at Raoul's camp. Now his life was in danger; he deserved that.
"Hold them off? There's hunnerds of them." He'd heard the other man's voice before, but he sounded like so many long knives, White Bear could not be sure that he knew him.
"Well, maybe if I shoot a few of them, you can get away."
At that White Bear felt anger heating up in his chest. So Wegner would like to shoot a few Indians, would he? Being willing to stay and fight while his comrade got away, though—that was worthy of respect.
"Damn! I don't like leaving you, Otto."
"You have a wife and children."
"So do you."
"But you have a chance to get away. I don't. What good is it, two of us dead? Go!"
White Bear heard a sigh. "All right. Here's all my powder and shot. I ain't planning to stop to use them. Remember, keep your head low so you can see them above the horizon. If they ain't wearing hats, you can figger they're Injuns."