g hominy, hung in the air but was very faint. He figured the
Indians had left here days ago.

"Otto," Raoul said, "ride back to General Atkinson and report the enemy
has abandoned Prophet's Town."

Wegner gave Raoul a strenuous Prussian salute, pulled his spotted gray
horse's head around and rode off.

The two hundred men of the spy battalion were trickling in behind Raoul,
hoofs pattering on the bare earth. In their coonskin caps and dusty gray
shirts and buckskin jackets, the men didn't look like soldiers, but they
had taken the oath and were under military discipline till their term of
enlistment was up at the end of May.

The men called to one another and laughed as they gazed around at the
empty lodges. They were enjoying themselves immensely, Raoul thought.
This time of year most of them would be breaking their backs doing
spring plowing and planting. Now they could earn twenty-one cents a day
while going on something like an extended hunting trip.

_Most men would rather fight than work any day._

Eli Greenglove, on a brown and white pony, trotted up beside Raoul. His
silver lace captain's stripes glittered on the upper arms of the blue
tunic Raoul had bought for him. A long cavalry saber hung from his white
leather belt.

Eli grinned, and Raoul had to look away. It seemed that every other
tooth in Eli's head was missing, and the ones that were left were
stained brown from years of chewing tobacco.

And now Clarissa had taken up pipe smoking, making it even harder for
Raoul to enjoy bedding down with her.

_If only Nancy--_

But Nancy had made it plain that she despised him.

Damn shame. Of course, old Eli here would slit his throat if he had any
idea what Raoul was thinking.

Eli said, "You figger the Prophet's Town Injuns have joined up with
Black Hawk's bunch?"

"Of course," said Raoul. "And that means Black Hawk now has about a
thousand warriors behind him."

A movement on the south edge of the village in the surrounding woods
caught Raoul's eyes. He swung around in that direction, pointing his
pistol.

"Eli, get your rifle ready," he said.

"Loaded 'n' primed," said Greenglove, pulling his bright new Cramer
percussion lock rifle--another present from Raoul--from its saddle
sling, controlling his pony easily with his knees alone.

Indians walked out of the woods, four men. They held their empty hands
high over their heads and shuffled forward slowly.

"Watch 'em," said Eli. "They may j