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cksmith back at Hatrack River。
Chapter 19 Homeing
Napoleon did not wear irons on his way back to France。 He slept in the second cabin； and ate at table with Governor La Fayette； who was only too glad to have him。 In the hot afternoons of the Atlantic crossing； La Fayette confided all his plans of revolution to Napoleon； his dearest friend； and Napoleon offered helpful advice on bow to make the revolution go much faster and more effectively。
〃The best thing about all these sad events；〃 said La Fayette the day the lookout first spied the coast of Bretagne； 〃is that we are friends now； and the revolution is assured of success because you are a part of it。 To think that once I mistrusted you； figuring you to be a tool of the King。 A tool of Charles！ But soon all France will know you for the hero that you are； and blame the King and Freddie for the sacking of Detroit。 All that territory in the hands of Protestants and savages； while we are here to offer a better way； a truer leadership to the people of France。 Ah； Napoleon； I have yearned for such a man as you through all my years of planning for democracy。 All we have needed； we Feuillants； was a leader； a man who could guide us； a man who could lead France to true freedom。〃 And La Fayette sighed and sank deeper into the cushions of his chair。
Through all this Napoleon listened with satisfaction； yes； but also sadness。 For he had thought that La Fayette was immune to his charm because of some great inward strength。 Now he knew that it was only a foolish amulet； that La Fayette was like any ordinary man when it came to resisting Napoleon； and now that the amulet lay buried in a mass grave outside Detroit； no doubt still chained to the moldering vertebrae of Frederic de Maurepas； Napoleon knew that he would never find his equal in this world； unless it was God himself； or Nature。 There would be no man to deny him； that much was sure。 So he listened to La Fayette's babbling with a wistful longing for the kind of man he once thought La Fayette could be。
The men on deck bustled and hurried and made ten thousand clumbing noises； for they were heaving in to land； Napoleon was home in France at last。
***
Ta…Kumsaw did not need to fear the thick fog that descended as he reached the Hio's mouth； pouring into the Mizzipy and getting lost in those stronger currents。 He knew the way： west； and any shore would be his refuge； his safety； the end of his life。
For that's all that he could see ahead of him now。 The land west of the Mizzipy was his brother's land； the place where White man would not e。 The land itself； the water； every living thing would work to bar those White who were foolish enough to think that the Red men could be defeated again。 But it was the Prophet's gifts the Red folk needed now； not those of a warrior like Ta…Kumsaw。 He might be a figure of legend in the east； among fallen Reds and foolish Whites； but in the west they would know him for what he was。 A failure； a bloody…handed man who led his people to destruction。
The water lapped at his canoe。 He heard a redbird singing not far off。 The fog grew whiter； dazzling； then broke； and the sun shone bright； blinding him。 In three paddlestrokes his canoe nosed the shore； and there； to his surprise； was a man silhouetted in the late afternoon sun； standing on the bank。 The man sprang down and took the end of Ta…Kumsaw's canoe and pulled it tight against the riverbank； then helped Ta…Kumsaw out of the little boat。 Ta…Kumsaw couldn't see his face； his eyes were so bedazzled； but he knew who it was all the same； from the touch of the hand。 And then the voice； murmuring； 〃Let the canoe drift away。 There'll be no more crossing to the other side； my brother。〃
〃Lolla…Wossiky；〃 cried Ta…Kumsaw。 Then he wept and knelt at his brother's feet； clinging to his knees。 All the anguish； all the grief spilled out of him； while above him Lolla…Wossiky； called Tenskwa…Tawa； called the Prophet； sang to him a song of melancholy； a song about the death of bees。
***
Things were changed somewhat when Alvin got to town。 There was a sign right out on the Wobbish Road； saying：
Pass by； stranger； if you can。
Or hear a tale unfit for ears of man。
Well Alvin knew the purpose of that sign。 But he was no stranger here。
Or was he？ As he made his way along the little spur of the road toward Vigor Church； he saw that new buildings had been put up； new houses built。 Folks were living pretty much cheek…by…jowl here now； and Vigor Church was a proper town。 But no one greeted him in the road； and even the children a…playing in the mons had no word for him； no doubt their parents taught them not to wele strangers； or maybe they just were sick of hearing their fathers and older brothers telling their awful tale to whatever stranger came to call。 Better not to wele any man or woman here。
And the past year had changed Alvin。 He was taller； yes； but also he knew that his walk was different； more like a Red man； unaccustomed to the feel of a White man's road beneath his feet； wishing for the greenwood song； which was near extinguished in these parts。 Maybe I am a stranger here these days。 Maybe I seen and done too much this last year to ever e back and be Alvin Junior anymore。
Even with the changes in the town； Alvin knew his way。 This much hadn't changed： there was still bridges over every little stream on the roadway up to his father's house。 Alvin tried to feel the old way； feel the anger of the water against him。 But the black evil that once was his enemy； it hardly knew him either； now that he walked like a Red man； all at one with the living world。 Never mind； thought Alvin。 As the land gets tame and broken； I'll be White again in my step； and the Unmaker will find me。 Just as he broke the Red man's healing hold on this land； he'll try to break me too； and if Ta…Kumsaw wasn't strong enough or Tenskwa…Tawa wise enough to stand against the old Unmaker； what will I ever do？
Just make my way； day by day； like the old hymn said。 Make my way； day by day； Lord above； light and love； in my grief bring relief； fill my cup； lift me up； heal my soul； make me whole。 Amen。 Amen。
Cally was a…standing there right on the porch； doing nothing； like as if he was just watching out in case Alvin Junior should e home today； and maybe that's what he was doing； maybe it was。 Anyway it was Cally shouted out； Cally who knew him at once despite all changes in him。
〃Alvin！ Ally！ Alvin Junior！ He's home！ You're home！〃
First one to e at his call； running around the house with his sleeves up and the ax still trailing from his hand； was Measure。 Soon as he saw it was truly Alvin； he dropped the ax and took Alvin Junior by the shoulders； looked him over for any harm； and Alvin done the same； looking for any scars on Measure。 None at all； healed proper。 But Measure found some deeper injuries in Alvin； and softly said； 〃You got older； Al。〃 To which Alvin had nary a thing to say； it being true； and for a moment they just stared into each other's eyes； each knowing how far down the long road of the Red man's suffering and exile the other had wal