had called "a good old Indian killer."

Black Hawk was talking, and Sharp Knife was listening. But White Bear
could not hear what Black Hawk was saying.

The room seemed to change. Black Hawk and Sharp Knife disappeared, and
where Sharp Knife had been standing there was now another tall, thin
man. He also wore black, but he had a black ribbon at his neck. A black
beard covered his chin, and the expression on his sun-browned face was
one of inconsolable grief. His sadness reminded White Bear of Black
Hawk's.

All at once White Bear was on a broad field covered with short grass,
divided by stone walls and wooden fences, with clumps of trees growing
here and there. Terror clutched his belly as he saw coming at him
thousands of long knives in blue uniforms with rifles and bayonets. He
looked about frantically for a place to hide, but there was none. He was
caught in the open.

But before the men could reach him they began to die.

Blood spurted from their blue tunics. They stopped running, staggered
and fell to the ground, dropping their rifles. Faces vanished in bursts
of red vapor. Arms and legs and heads flew through the air. Flashes of
flame and smoke and flying shards of iron tore bodies to bits.

But no matter how many of them died, more and more of the white men in
their blue jackets and trousers came marching over the horizon holding
their bayonets before them. There was no end to them.

White Bear felt as if his heart might stop. He put his hands over his
eyes.

And when he looked again he was back in the cloudy hall of the Turtle.

"What have you shown me?" he asked.

"I have shown you the future of both the red people and the white people
on this island between two oceans," the Turtle rumbled. "It is given to
you to know two futures because two streams of blood flow in you. You
belong to both, and to neither."

It was painful to hear this. The Turtle was uttering thoughts that had
occurred to White Bear many times; he had always tried to put them out
of his mind. Could he not forget his years among the pale eyes and
become entirely a Sauk?

Wisps of cloud drifted around the Turtle's scaly body. White Bear heard
the drip-drip of water from the Turtle's heart into the blue-black,
fish-crowded pool that fed the Great River. The sound was like the
ringing of a hammer on an anvil, reverberating through the vast space in
which they stood.

The Turtle spoke again. "Earthmaker has willed that the pale ey