to Victor from some place in Indiana three
years ago, buying a choice piece of bottomland from Pierre. Auguste had
learned that he was a veteran of the War of 1812.

Justus Bennett, the county land commissioner, who Auguste knew to be one
of Raoul's creatures, said, "Mr. Cooper, I've been reading law most of
my adult life, and I can assure you Mr. Raoul de Marion has as sound a
case under common law and English precedent as I've ever seen."

Auguste doubted that anyone here knew what that meant, impressive as it
might sound.

_The whites know how to twist any law to their advantage._

Cooper said nothing further.

These people might feel sorry for him, Auguste thought, and resent what
Raoul was doing. But he'd get no help from any of the men who were
standing around behind him. Raoul and his men were armed and determined,
and the rest of the people here were not ready to give up their lives to
help a half-breed.

But Auguste had taken advantage of Raoul's distraction with Cooper and
Bennett to cut the distance between himself and his uncle in half. If he
could get close enough to Raoul he might have a chance to get at him
with his knife. He'd worn the deerhorn-handled knife today only because
his father had given it to him.

As he hesitated, he heard footsteps in the grass and turned to see his
grandfather walking toward Raoul with slow but firm steps, thumping his
walking stick on the ground.

"No, Grandpapa!" Auguste called out to him.

"This is my son, I very much regret to say," said Elysee. "And I must
administer correction."

Auguste started to follow Elysee, but Raoul dropped his hand warningly
to his pistol.

"Don't come any closer, half-breed."

"I was with Pierre when he wrote his final will," said Elysee. "And I
have a copy of it. I know his mind was sound. He gave the whole
estate--except for the fur company, which we have always agreed would be
yours--to Auguste."

"You gave the fur company to me when you divided the estate between me
and Pierre years ago," Raoul said. "So my own good brother left me
nothing. Thirty thousand acres of the best land in western Illinois go
to a mongrel Indian, and you say his mind was sound? The more fool you."

"You are un bete!" Elysee shouted. "You are proof that there is no just
God. If there were He would have taken you and let Pierre live."

"Monsieur de Marion!" the priest cried. "Think what you are saying. On
this day of all days."

Raoul said, "I