Young Bear walked around the camp looking for the tall soldier chief. When he could not find him in the area where the tribe was camped he went to the area where the white soldiers were camped. As he walked about the white soldier camp he was surprised to see many wagons and a large herd of mules and horses. He could not think of what they could be using so many wagons for. They did not have nearly that much supplies. The sick did not require nearly that many wagons. There were many more horses then there were soldiers. And, the soldiers rode the same horses every day. It was more then he could figure out. He finally turned and walked back toward the camp where his grandfather was resting. He would see the big soldier chief later. When he came to their camp he saw his grandfather was boiling water. As he started to speak to the old man Old Beaver Tail turned and said, "It is coffee. Moon Flower brought it to us. It is a gift from the soldier chief." Soon the old man poured some of the hot liquid into the boy's bowl and turned to take something from his bag. As Young Bear Bear watched, Old Beaver Tail opened a small package and poured some white power into the boy's bowl before he passed it to him. Young Bear had seen and tasted the grainy white powder before. He liked the sweet flavor it gave the coffee. As he sat back and savored the taste of the sweet coffee he thought about the wagons and the mules and horses he had seen. He thought maybe his grandfather would know something about them. He told the old man about what he has seen at the white soldiers' camp. The old brave sat back, tasted his coffee, and started to speak. He told Young Bear about how the white men had planed to send the people to the west and how the people had protested. He told how the chiefs had refused to sell their land to the white men, how they had struggled for years to prevent them from taking the Cherokee lands. He told how the principal chief had gone to the north to speak with the one who was called the great white father, The big chief of all the white men. He told the boy of promises made and not kept. He told of treaties made and broken, sometimes even before all the people had learned of them. In the end the white men had refused to recognize the true head men and chiefs, how the white men from the north had appointed other people as chiefs, people who would do as the white men wished them to do. He told Young Bear that all the people had decided they would not ride the wagons that were furnished to take them to the west. It was a protest the boy was told. If they were forced to go west against their will, they would walk to protest being forced to leave their homes. By walking they would show that they did not go willingly. Only the sick would ride in the wagons. Young Bear thought about what his grandfather had told him. Again, he turned against the white soldiers. It seemed to him as if his head was going around and around. He thought some of the white soldiers had been good to them or they would not have the blankets, shoes, and the other things. He turned to his grandfather and opened his mouth to speak. The old man held up his hand and stopped the boy. He told him it was not bad to like the soldiers. It was not their fault. They were soldiers and had to follow orders. They were only doing as their chief had told them. It was easy to see they took no pleasure in what they were doing. Some of them had a great dislike for what they had to do. Some had even run away to keep from taking the people from their homes. When caught they would be severely punished. He told the boy they must not hold hate in their hearts for the soldiers. What was happening was not of their doing. He told Young Bear that some of the soldiers had even sickened and died just as the people did. Some of them also rode in the sick wagons. Yes, there were now several sick wagons. But now they were allowed to stop and rest. The people were no longer wet and cold. They had wood for fires, food to eat, and some were even building small brush shelters much the same as the one Old Beaver Tail had started. Now the sick wagons would not have as many people in them. Not nearly as many shallow graves were being dug. Everything was getting better. Young Bear thought for a long time about what his grandfather had said. He sat aside his bowl, rose to his feet, took the big knife from the old man's hand, and started cutting long slender limbs from the nearby trees for the shelter. He felt better about the soldiers now. The shelter would protect them from the wind. With the strange black sheet on top to keep out the rain, and a fire in front, his grandfather would be warm and comfortable. Yes, he thought, Maybe the white soldiers are not so bad after all.
