killing a young man with a gag in his mouth； that was altogether different。 When he bit off that ear it just didn't feel right。 It wasn't no trophy of a fair fight。 Took the heart right out of him。 He didn't even bother biting off the other ear。
Mike stood there beside Harrison； watching the horses pull the four cannon right along； brisk as you please。 He knew how Harrison would use the guns； he'd heard him planning it。 Two here； two there； so they rake the whole Red city from both sides。 Grape and canister； to rip and tear the bodies of the Reds； women and children right along with the men。
It ain't my kind of a fight； thought Mike。 Like that man out back。 No challenge at all； like stomping baby frogs。 You can do it； and not think twice。 But you don't pick up the dead frogs； stuff them； and hang them on the wall； you just don't do that。
It ain't my kind of fight。
Chapter 13 Eight…Face Mound
There was a different feel to the land around Licking River。 Alvin didn't notice right off； mostly cause he was running with his wick trimmed； so to speak。 Didn't notice much at all。 It was one long dream as he ran。 But as Ta…Kumsaw led him into the Land of Flints； there was a change in the dream。 All around him； no matter what he saw in his dream； there was little sparks of deep…black fire。 Not like the nothingness that always lurked at the edges of his vision。 Not like the deep black that sucked light into itself and never let it go。 No； this black shone； it gave off sparks。
And when they stopped running； and Alvin came to hisself again； those black fires may have faded just a bit but they were still there。 Without so much as thinking； Alvin walked toward one； a black blaze in a sea of green； reached down and picked it up。 A flint。 A good big one。
〃A twenty…arrow flint；〃 said Ta…Kumsaw。
〃It shines black and burns cold；〃 said Alvin。
Ta…Kumsaw nodded。 〃You want to be a Red boy？ Then make arrowheads with me。〃
Alvin caught on quick。 He had worked with stone before。 When he cut a millstone； he wanted smooth； flat surfaces。 With flint； it was the edge； not the face that counted。 His first two arrowheads were clumsy； but then he was able to feel his way into the stone and find the natural creases and folds； and then break them apart。 For his fourth arrowhead； he didn't chip at all。 Just used his fingers and gently pulled the arrowhead away from the flint。
Ta…Kumsaw's face showed no expression。 That's what most White folks thought he looked like all the time。 They thought Red men； and most especially Ta…Kumsaw； never felt nothing cause they never let nobody see their feelings。 Alvin had seen him laugh； though； and cry； and all the other faces that a man can show。 So he knowed that when Ta…Kumsaw showed nothing on his face； that meant he was feeling a whole lot of things。
〃I worked with stone a lot before；〃 said Alvin。 He felt like he was sort of apologizing。
〃Flint isn't stone；〃 said Ta…Kumsaw。 〃Pebbles in the river； boulders； those are stone。 This is living rock； rock with fire in it； the hard earth that the land gives to us freely。 Not hewn out and tortured the way White men do with iron。〃 He held up Alvin's fourth arrowhead； the one he cajoled out of the flint with his fingers。 〃Steel can never have an edge this sharp。〃
〃It's just about as perfect an edge as I ever saw；〃 said Al。
〃No chip marks；〃 said Ta…Kumsaw。 〃No pressing。 A Red man would see this flint and say； The land grew the flint this way。〃
〃But you know better；〃 said Al。 〃You know it's just a knack I got。〃
〃A knack bends the land；〃 said Ta…Kumsaw。 〃Like a snag in the river churns the water on the river's face。 So it is with the land when a White uses his knack。 Not you。〃
Alvin puzzled on that for a minute。 〃You mean you can see where other folks did their doodlebug or beseeching or hex or charm？〃
〃Like the bad stink when a sick man loosens his bowel；〃 said Ta…Kumsaw。 〃But you what you do is clean。 Like part of the land。 I thought I would teach you how to be Red。 Instead the land gives you arrowheads like a gift。〃
Again； Alvin felt like apologizing。 It seemed to make Ta…Kumsaw angry； that he could do the things he did。 〃It ain't like I asked anybody for this；〃 he said。 〃I was just the seventh son of a seventh son； and the thirteenth child。〃
〃These numbers seven； thirteen you Whites care about them； but they're nothing in the land。 The land has true numbers。 One； two； three； four； five； six these numbers you can find when you stand in the forest and look around you。 Where is seven？ Where is thirteen？〃
〃Maybe that's why they're so strong；〃 said Alvin。 〃'Maybe cause they ain't natural。〃
〃Then why does the land love this unnatural thing that you do？〃
〃I don't know； Ta…Kumsaw。 I'm only ten going on eleven。〃
Ta…Kumsaw laughed。 〃Ten？ Eleven？ Very weak numbers。〃
They spent the night there； in the borders of the Land of Flints。 Ta…Kumsaw told Alvin the story of that place； how it was the best flint country in the whole land。 No matter how many flints the Reds came and took away； more always came out of the ground； just lying there to get picked up。 In years gone by； every now and then some tribe would try to own the place。 They'd bring their warriors and kill anyone else who came for flints。 That way they figured they'd have arrows and the other tribes wouldn't have any。 But it never worked right。 Cause as soon as that tribe won its battles and held the land； the flints just plain disappeared。 Not a one。 Members of that tribe would search and search； and never find a thing。 They'd go away； and another tribe would e in； and there'd be flints again； as many as ever。
〃It belongs to everybody； this place。 All Reds are at peace here。 No killing； no war； no quarrels or the tribe has no flints。〃
〃I wish the whole world was a place like that；〃 said Alvin。
〃Listen to my brother long enough； White boy； and you'll start to think it is。 No； no； don't explain to me。 Don't defend him。 He takes his road； I take mine。 I think his way will kill more people； Red or White； than mine。〃
In the night； Alvin dreamed。 He saw himself walk all the way around Eight…Face Mound； until he found a place where a path seemed to lead up the steep hill。 He climbed； then； and came to the top。 The silver…leafed trees shook in the breeze； blinding him as the sun shone off them。 He walked to one tree； and in it there was a nest of redbirds。 Every tree the same； a single redbird nest。
Except one tree。 It was different from the others。 It was older； gnarled； with spreading branches instead of the up…reaching kind。 Like a fruit tree。 And the leaves were gold； not silver； so they didn't shine so bright； but they were soft and deep。 In the tree； he saw round white fruit； and he knew that it was ripe。 But when he reached out his hand to take the fruit； and eat it； he could hear laughter； jeering。 He looked around him and saw everybody he ever knowed in his whole life； laughing at him。 Except one Taleswapper。 Taleswapper was standing there； and he said； 〃Eat。〃 Alvin reached up and plucked a single fruit out of the tree and took it to his lips and bit into it。 It was juicy and firm； and the taste was sweet and bitter； salt and sour all at once； so strong it made him tingle all over but good； a taste he wanted to hold inside him forever。
He was about to take a second bite when he saw that the fruit was gone from his hand； and not a one hung from the tree。 〃One bite is all you need for now；〃 said Taleswapper。 〃Remember how it tastes。〃
〃I'll never forget；〃 said Alvin。
Everybody was still laughing； louder than ever； but Alvin paid them no mind。 He'd took him a bite of the fruit； and all he wanted now was to bring his family to the same tree； and let them eat； to bring everybody he ever knowed； and even strangers； too； and let them taste it。 If they'd just taste it； Alvin figured； they'd know。
〃What would they know？〃 asked Taleswapper。
Al couldn't think what it was。 〃Just know；〃 he said。 〃Know everything。 Everything that's good。〃
〃That's right；〃 said Taleswapper。 〃With the first bite； you know。〃
〃What about the second bite？〃
〃With the