Taylor cocked his head, listening to a distant sound, then turned to look downriver.
"He's got a much more bitter lesson to learn, Sergeant. As do all his people."
White Bear heard it too. A chugging sound. It had been a while since he had heard a noise like that. He followed Taylor's gaze down the river. All he could see was a column of gray smoke in the sky to the south. But he knew what it was.
A steamship.
Because he could not ride to warn his people, he wanted to cry out in agony. He saw what would happen—those few frail canoes, the steamship bearing down on them, two long knife armies marching inexorably toward the mouth of the Bad Axe.
The many who follow Black Hawk across the Great River will be few when they cross back.
20
River of Blood
Raoul uncorked the jug standing on the chart table and held it out to Bill Helmer, captain of the steamship Victory. A portly man with muttonchop whiskers, his hands firmly gripping the polished oak steering wheel, Helmer silently shook his head.