first Good Book Tepee in your village beside Skywater here. My wife and my children and I have lived with you as one of your own blood. We have never done you any harm. We have tried to show you the true path.” Reverend Codman pointed toward a field of burning corn just visible across the slough. “We have taught you how to plant corn in a furrow. We have given you plows. We have been your true friend at all times. Your grief was our grief, your joy was our joy. Why do you want to kill us?”
“The white man must die!” Mad Bear continued to roar. “The white man has stolen our land. He has killed our sons. He has counted coup on our daughters in his dirty dog manner. He has defiled our wives.”
Pounce said, “I can do nothing. The soldiers’ lodge has decided you must die. I cannot spare your life. Their orders are to kill all white men. You are a white man. I cannot save you.”
Reverend Codman was finally beside himself with Christian rage. “Then you have lied to me.”
“I promise to shoot up when the time comes.”
“When . . . the . . . time . . . comes?”
“I must shoot my gun a little or the soldiers’ lodge will punish me.”
“You have lied to your Christian brother.”
A blush blackened Pounce’s pocked face. “We are very poor. You have stolen our hunting grounds. You have stolen the graves of our fathers. You have stolen even the place for our own graves. We have no place to bury our dead.”
“What!” Reverend Codman rose on his toes in the deep grass. “From this spot when I look north or east or south I can see neither house nor store built by the white man. It is only along the shore of Skywater where I see white-man dwellings.”
“You take our money and give it to this trader”—Pounce threw Silvers a snarling look—“and he touches the pen to the books in a false manner and then he says we owe it all to him.”
Silvers stuck his chin into it. “You goldurn lyin’ red nigger. Why, I’ve given you and your bunch credit for years so you could buy blankets and hoes and plows. That’s why you always owe me out of your annuities when they arrive. I wasn’t put into this world to feed and clothe you red devils out of my own pocket. And that’s why as far as I’m concerned you and your whitewashed bunch can go eat grass. And if you’re really as hungry as you pretend, you can go eat your own dung.”
Pounce’s eyes whirled, flashing, black. Gone was all pretense that he ever was the white man’s friend.
Reverend Codman turned on Silvers. “There is no need to swear. The Indian never swears.”
“Never swears?” Silvers ejaculated.
“Never. The worst he ever says is, ‘You are a dog.’ That is all.”
“Never swears, does he?” Silvers was jumping mad. “Well, maybe he ain’t human enough to swear. Did you ever think on that, ha?”
Pounce boiled. He turned toward his men. He held up his hand. He held it high until their howling fell away, until only the sound of their hate-thick breathing could be heard. He spoke in a fury. “Dakotas, attend! Before the sun sets across Skywater and the moon rises above the eastern rim of the earth, I will lead you against the stinking hairy-faces, against the fat men who have come to cheat us and take our lands away and put us in the pen for not helping them rob our women and children. Attend!”
Mad Bear addressed his men in turn. “Attend, Dakotas! This is what I say. Are we to starve like the buffalo who has fallen into deep snow? Are we to let our blood freeze like the waters of a little stream in the middle of the Hard Moon? This is what I say. Let us make our mother red with the blood of the white man.”
Whitebone, however, held his men back. He and his soldiers’ lodge meant to keep their word that the white settlers were to have safe passage to the church.
One of the older squaws from Mad Bear’s bunch approached. She gave a low trill. The trill set off a wild roar in both Pounce’s and Mad
“The white man must die!” Mad Bear continued to roar. “The white man has stolen our land. He has killed our sons. He has counted coup on our daughters in his dirty dog manner. He has defiled our wives.”
Pounce said, “I can do nothing. The soldiers’ lodge has decided you must die. I cannot spare your life. Their orders are to kill all white men. You are a white man. I cannot save you.”
Reverend Codman was finally beside himself with Christian rage. “Then you have lied to me.”
“I promise to shoot up when the time comes.”
“When . . . the . . . time . . . comes?”
“I must shoot my gun a little or the soldiers’ lodge will punish me.”
“You have lied to your Christian brother.”
A blush blackened Pounce’s pocked face. “We are very poor. You have stolen our hunting grounds. You have stolen the graves of our fathers. You have stolen even the place for our own graves. We have no place to bury our dead.”
“What!” Reverend Codman rose on his toes in the deep grass. “From this spot when I look north or east or south I can see neither house nor store built by the white man. It is only along the shore of Skywater where I see white-man dwellings.”
“You take our money and give it to this trader”—Pounce threw Silvers a snarling look—“and he touches the pen to the books in a false manner and then he says we owe it all to him.”
Silvers stuck his chin into it. “You goldurn lyin’ red nigger. Why, I’ve given you and your bunch credit for years so you could buy blankets and hoes and plows. That’s why you always owe me out of your annuities when they arrive. I wasn’t put into this world to feed and clothe you red devils out of my own pocket. And that’s why as far as I’m concerned you and your whitewashed bunch can go eat grass. And if you’re really as hungry as you pretend, you can go eat your own dung.”
Pounce’s eyes whirled, flashing, black. Gone was all pretense that he ever was the white man’s friend.
Reverend Codman turned on Silvers. “There is no need to swear. The Indian never swears.”
“Never swears?” Silvers ejaculated.
“Never. The worst he ever says is, ‘You are a dog.’ That is all.”
“Never swears, does he?” Silvers was jumping mad. “Well, maybe he ain’t human enough to swear. Did you ever think on that, ha?”
Pounce boiled. He turned toward his men. He held up his hand. He held it high until their howling fell away, until only the sound of their hate-thick breathing could be heard. He spoke in a fury. “Dakotas, attend! Before the sun sets across Skywater and the moon rises above the eastern rim of the earth, I will lead you against the stinking hairy-faces, against the fat men who have come to cheat us and take our lands away and put us in the pen for not helping them rob our women and children. Attend!”
Mad Bear addressed his men in turn. “Attend, Dakotas! This is what I say. Are we to starve like the buffalo who has fallen into deep snow? Are we to let our blood freeze like the waters of a little stream in the middle of the Hard Moon? This is what I say. Let us make our mother red with the blood of the white man.”
Whitebone, however, held his men back. He and his soldiers’ lodge meant to keep their word that the white settlers were to have safe passage to the church.
One of the older squaws from Mad Bear’s bunch approached. She gave a low trill. The trill set off a wild roar in both Pounce’s and Mad
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