Solemnly Wave handed the pipe down to Eagle Feather.
Others took up the cry. "No! No!" But no one laid a hand on Eagle Feather.
And many were silent, and Redbird knew that she was not the only one in the camp who wanted Eagle Feather to smoke the pipe.
Awed, Redbird realized that the spirits hovered over Eagle Feather, guiding him. Her son had been chosen to save the remnant of the band, though only six summers had passed since his birth. She felt her mouth trembling.
Eagle Feather put the mouthpiece of the pipe to his lips and drew in. A deep puff. Though he was but six years old and had never smoked before, he showed no pain as the hot smoke filled his tender mouth, nor did he cough. Redbird's heart swelled with pride.
Eagle Feather blew the smoke out again. A single puff, according to custom.
Wave's thick features were breaking in tearful relief.
Eagle Feather had known just what to do. And there could be no doubt in anyone's mind that he meant to do what he had done. He held the pipe up to Wave.
A new cry of pain rose from Black Hawk, and the Winnebago Prophet joined him as loudly.
But Redbird's heart was happy. She hugged Floating Lily.