The sound of a thousand mosquitoes buzzed in their ears as they pushed their way through the thick woods and un­derbrush of southern Illinois along the Mississippi River. Sweat stung their eyes as they peered toward the Kaskaskia Native American village on the other side, just visible through a gap in the thick foliage of elms and oaks impeding their movement toward the east bank of the river. Wriggling tails of campfire smoke rose slowly toward the moody sky, which promised the imminent return of rain.

It had been raining sporadically but  . . .