Ford, the lawyer from Vandalia Frank had hired to defend Auguste, said, "What happened shows how angry the people of Victor still are against the Sauk. I still think we have to ask for a change of venue." Ford was a short, slender man with a round face and bright, intelligent eyes. Leaning against the rough-hewn log wall of Auguste's cell, he wore a dark brown frock coat with a high collar that came up to his ears. Frank said, "Many people here feel terribly sorry for Auguste. And a lot of us decided, after we survived the siege, that we wouldn't put up anymore with the lawlessness that Raoul and his crew represent." _But Raoul is back now_, Auguste thought. _He'll start to take control again._ Ford said, "Well, Auguste ought to tell us what he thinks. It's his neck." Auguste took a deep breath. The clean smell of fresh-cut wood filled his nostrils. A good smell, but it reminded him that this village hall was only recently rebuilt, that last June Wolf Paw's raiding party had burned down everything in Victor except Raoul's trading post. How could he possibly get a fair trial here? Auguste said, "At least here I have some people who know me and care about me." Ford sighed. "So be it. Frank, I want a list of every man who was in the mob that attacked the Sauk prisoners. We don't want any of them sitting on the jury." As Frank and Ford discussed trial tactics, Auguste gazed around at this dark little chamber on the second floor of the village hall. It might be his last home on earth. The only window was a square barred hole high up on the south wall, too small to let much light in--or for a man to climb out through. This morning a light rain falling outside spattered through the window, and the cell felt damp and cool. _When Frank built this cell, he could never have thought his own nephew would be a prisoner in it._ "We have a power of work to do, Auguste," Ford interrupted his thoughts. "So far I can't find anyone who confirms your story of what happened at Old Man's Creek. This Otto Wegner fellow whose life you saved, he and his family have moved down to the Texas country in Mexico." Frank said, "We do have two people who'll testify that you protected them and never went on any war parties while they were prisoners of the British Band--Miss Hale and the boy Woodrow." At the mention of Nancy's name Auguste felt a wrench in his heart. He knew that she had stayed in Victor, teaching in a new schoolhouse Frank had built for her on the site of her father's church. Her absence in the week he had been here had hurt him deeply. "Frank," he said, "why hasn't Nancy come to see me?"