d down.

"Frank makes the talking papers from which people may read and learn
things," said Pierre. "He also builds things of wood. He built some of
the newer buildings here on our land. Frank and Nicole and their
children live over by the river in a town called Victor. He built many
of the houses there, too."

The people had been so friendly that Auguste had gotten over much of his
fear, but when he saw Pierre wave him toward the door, which yawned
above him like an enormous cave mouth, he felt cold once again.

But he followed Pierre through the door, and his breath left his body in
amazement.

It was like being in a forest clearing where the trees towered over you
and their branches met high up, blocking out the sky. In a Sauk lodge he
could reach up and touch the roof without straightening his arm. Here
the ceiling was hidden in shadows, and huge square-cut timbers crossed
the open space above his head.

Hung by ropes from those timbers were big circles of wood that Pere
Isaac had said were called wheels. These wheels were turned on their
sides, and set on them were dozens of the little white sticks of wax
that pale eyes used to make light. A few of the more prosperous Sauk
families sometimes used such wax sticks to light their lodges.

Auguste looked around in wonder. The huge room was full of objects whose
purpose he could not guess. Doorways led to other parts of this house or
to attached houses. Cooking smells of many kinds of good food filled the
air.

Pale eyes men and women stood about in the hall and watched Auguste and
his father and grandfather enter.

Two small boys and a girl running through the hall stopped to stare at
him. Frank Hopkins called to them and they approached slowly.

"These are Thomas, Benjamin and Abigail, Nicole and Frank's children,"
said Pierre.

_Their other children_, thought Auguste, wondering whether Nicole
herself knew what he knew about her.

Abigail stood close to her father, her mouth and eyes wide open.

Thomas, the biggest of the three, said, "Gosh almighty, I got a real
Injun for a cousin!"

Benjamin walked slowly over to Auguste, suddenly reached out and gripped
the deerhorn handle of the knife at his belt. Auguste tensed.

But Benjamin grinned up at Auguste and let go of the knife without
trying to pull it out of its scabbard. Then he ran back to his father.

Grandpapa Elysee beckoned, and as Auguste walked toward him he noticed
that the soles of his moc