Red Prophet Page 0,70

whispered awhile, trying to puzzle things out. If Ta-Kumsaw wasn't in on this from the start, how come them Chok-Taw cut his and the Prophet's names into the saddle? And even if that was a lie, it was going to look real bad that Ta-Kumsaw finally did end up with the captives, and then up and took them to Lake Mizogan instead of just letting them go home. It was going to take some tall talking to keep this from turning into a war.

Finally, though, they fell silent, weary to the bone from all their running, not to mention their work moving the tree and the plain terror when the Chok-Taw was out to torture them. Measure started snoring lightly. And Alvin, he found himself drifting. In the very last moments before sleep, he heard that green music again, or saw it, or anyhow knew that it was there. But before he could even listen, he dozed off. Dozed off and slept real peaceful, what with the night breeze blowing cool off the river, the blanket and the warmth of Measure's body keeping him warm, the nightsounds of the animals, the cries of a hungry infant from a hut somewhere; all of it was part of the green music flowing through his head.

Chapter 8 - Red-Lover

They gathered in the clearing, some thirty White men, grim-faced and angry and tired from walking through the woods. The trail was easy enough to follow, but it seemed like the branches grabbed at them and the roots tripped them up - the forest was never kind to a White man. Then there was an hour lost when the trail reached a stream, and they had to go up and down the stream to find where the Reds took them boys out of the water and up onto land again. Old Alvin Miller like to went crazy when he saw they dragged the boys through water - it took his son Calm about ten minutes to get him quiet and able to go on. The man was just mad with fear.

"Shbuldn't've sent him away, I never should've let him go," he kept saying.

And Calm kept saying, "Could've happened anywhere, don't blame yourself, we'll find them all right, they're still walking ain't they?" All kinds of talk, but mostly it was his voice that soothed Al Miller, it was his manner - some folks even said it was his knack, that his ma named him straight for what he could best do.

Now they were in the clearing, and trails led off about five different ways, and all of them plumb disappeared after a few steps. They found the boys' tore-up underwear a few steps into the woods heading northwest. Nobody figured they ought to show that to Al Miller, so by the time he got there - him bringing up the rear at that point, with Calm by his side - the underjohns were tucked away out of sight.

"We'll never track them from here," said Armor-of-God. "The boys aren't leaving no footprints now - which don't mean nothing, Mr. Miller, so don't you fret." Armor called his father-in-law Mr. Miller ever since Al throwed him out of the house into the snow that time he came to say Al Junior was dying cause the family committed the sin of using hexes and beseechings. It just don't seem right to call a man Pa after he heaves you off his porch. "They might be toting the boys, or they might be stepping after them, kind of wiping out their prints. We all know if a Red don't want to leave a trail, there ain't no trail."

"We all know about Reds," said Al Miller. "And what they do to White boys when they - "

"So far all we know is they're trying to scare us," said Armor.

"Doing a good job so far," said one of the Swedes. "Scared mostly to death, my family and me."

"Besides, everybody knows Armor-of-God here is a Red-lover."

Armor looked around, trying to see who said that. "If by Red-lover you mean I think Reds are human beings just like Whites, then it's true. But if you mean I like Reds better than Whites, then you best work up some courage to step out here and say it to my face, so I can mash your face into the bark of a tree."

"No need to quarrel," said Reverend Thrower, panting. He wasn't much for exercise, was