Raoul said, "I'm going to give this Potawatomi one more chance to tell me now where Black Hawk went, and if he disobeys me again I'm going to shoot him dead." He stood before Little Foot and pointed the pistol at his head. In Potawatomi he said, "Tell me what Black Hawk plans to do. Is he lying in ambush farther up the trail? Does he have a secret camp for his squaws and papooses? Tell me, or I will shoot you." Swinging the muzzle of the pistol to the man in the blue turban beside Little Foot, he said, "And then I will ask this man, and if he does not tell me, I will kill him too." The bony young man said, "With all due respect to your rank and experience, sir, I must say that what you propose to do is wrong." Raoul's rage threatened to boil over. Tension jerked his right arm. So as not to risk wasting a shot, he took his finger off the trigger. In a mild but somehow penetrating voice the Sangamon man said, "I'll tell you why this is wrong, sir, if you'll allow me." The man's politeness was infuriating. Raoul turned to him, letting the pistol fall to his side. "Go on, Captain. Preach to me." "If you had a white prisoner at your mercy, you would not shoot him because he refused to betray his comrades. You would think it honorable in him to answer your questions with silence. But this red man is a human being with the same God-given right to his life that you and I have." Raoul realized all at once that the lean captain's backwoods manner of speaking had fallen away like an unneeded cloak. He sounded like a lawyer or a minister. "I was a prisoner of the Potawatomi for two years. I can tell you from experience they're not human at all." How angry Pierre had been when Raoul had said Indians were animals. But it was true. "They treated you badly? Made a slave of you?" "Damned right." The young captain looked calmly at Raoul. "If to hold slaves and treat them badly marks a man as less than human, then you must so brand every wealthy white man in the Southern states." A few of the men standing around laughed. "That Abe! Got an answer for everything." Again Raoul's hand tightened convulsively on the pistol grip. He'd wasted enough words on this walking skeleton from Sangamon County. He was quivering with rage. There was one quick way to put an end to the arguing. He swung around and stepped close to Little Foot, holding his pistol less than a foot from the red-turbaned head. With his left hand he pulled the hammer back to half-cock, then full. The double click sounded loud in a sudden, astonished silence. And Little Foot's arms, unbound, shot up. Both his hands gripped the barrel of the pistol and yanked it to one side. About to pull the trigger, Raoul froze his finger as the muzzle was pulled aside from its target. --And knew with a sudden sinking of his heart what a deadly mistake he had made in that instant. The Potawatomi's powerful two-handed grip tore the pistol from his fingers. _I should have fired. Now I am a dead man._