One of the early expressions of democracy in the United States was predicated on the idea that once all the "Indians" were killed there'd be plenty of time to talk equality.

But that was long ago, wasn't it? The shame of it has just about been forgotten. Only historians, poets and fast-fading descendants of the victims of genocide, the Indians -- native Americans -- seem to remember now. They do so in shame and sorrow.

But they are alone, and they know as well as the next person that history marches on; that that was then, this is now; that it was Manifest Destiny for the whites to kill the tenants of the time in order to steal mountain, plain, river and forest, the better to lay in a New World.

That's history, buckaroos, and tough noogies for the natives, resident here for 10,000 years.

But wait. What is this? Last week, in the year 2006, America, California and North County got a reminder -- muted but real -- that native-American life and spirit still stir, and powerfully. Both have risen from the killing fields, in a manner of speaking, and are finding revenge or perhaps solace in the resort and casino biz.

Last week's development was not huge. But it was a significant reminder. The Pala Band of Mission Indians, owners of one of the grand casino-resorts that Indians have managed to construct on reservations across the country in the last few decades, are planning to expand the thing by a third.

The actual "news" was that a report on the expansion -- from 182,000 square feet to 250,000 -- says not to worry, that there will be no significant problems created. Maybe traffic will increase, but that's about it.

You have to smile. Here are the Pala, descendants of the Luiseno, a Shoshonean (Uto-Aztecian) tribe of the so-called Takic section of the family -- whose first recorded contact with missionaries, alas for the natives, was in 1796 -- making a comeback. Sort of.

At that time, 1796, there were about 4,000 Luiseno, historians tell us. They were missionized, partly at the San Luis Rey Mission, partly at San Juan Capistrano. In 1834 their troubles multiplied.

Battles against Mexicans and Anglo-Americans (whites) went badly, and the tribes were forcibly merged with other tribes into the so-called Mission Indians.

Their intricate, complex societies and language were ignored and trampled on, as were those of all California tribes and families, as were those of the hundreds of tribes and other groupings of Indians across the continent. All stamped out.

By 1970, according to the Encyclopedia of Native Tribes of North America, there were 600 descendants of the Luiseno on the reservations of La Jolla, Rincon, Pauma, Pechanga, Pala (with others) and Soboba. Today, it is estimated, about 2,500 of the Luiseno descendants survive.

Might that not have been the end of things? That the descendants of tribe members that escaped slaughter would slowly die out in somewhat better circumstances, and the land paved over? That is almost what happened, as the 20th century bore in upon them, but not quite.

For a gene named Survive surely lurks in Luiseno blood. Luiseno have survived brilliantly, if not in great number, then in defiance of the stars or of history. This is proof positive:

That in the normal course of business the Pala want to expand the resort-casino -- metaphor for reservation -- is not merely amazing but also delicious. It has the flavor of correctness about it, with a dollop or two of justice catching up. Normal course. Normal. Just like all other capitalists.

To repeat, nobody seeks the old ways. Most Americans have no interest in returning the land to the infinitely complex Indian cultures. No one wants to remove the buildings and restore the forests. Rolling back clocks is silly talk. Modern, civilized people know better than that. But still.

In the meantime, the great white father in the town of Washington has sent pony soldiers to find other savage nations to conquer and peoples to kill in order to demonstrate to them the delights of democracy. It's been in all the papers.

Contact staff writer John Van Doorn at (760) 739-6647 or jvandoorn@nctimes.com.