_CHAPTER ONE_
Bent Arrow drove himself forward with all his strength. For a few steps
he seemed to be closing the gap between himself and the two older boys
ahead. The next moment the old pain beat up through his right leg. He
had to choke back a gasp as he nearly stumbled.
He forced himself to keep running, although the pain had slowed him so
much that the two ahead were rapidly outdistancing him. From the corner
of his eye, he saw Sly Fox and Laughing Deer draw even with him and try
to pass. In spite of the pain in his leg, Bent Arrow wasn’t going to be
last. He lunged forward, barely managing to cross the finish line ahead
of the other two.
As soon as he had crossed the line, Bent Arrow turned toward the crowd
of warriors surrounding the winner. The warriors were so close to the
runner that Bent Arrow couldn’t see who it was. Then he caught sight of
Running Elk standing at one side, so he knew that Lone Eagle was the
winner.
Bent Arrow saw his uncle, Flying Arrow, at the edge of the circle of
warriors. He turned in that direction. He had to grit his teeth to keep
from limping, but he was determined that his uncle shouldn’t think he
was using his injured leg as an excuse for not winning.
“I’m sorry you have to be ashamed because I can’t win a race,” Bent
Arrow said as soon as he was beside his uncle.
“Ashamed!” Flying Arrow exclaimed. “I’m not ashamed. I’m proud that you
were able to beat two runners as good as Sly Fox and Laughing Deer.
Running Elk and Lone Eagle are a summer older than you. When you are in
your fourteenth summer, you will be an even better runner.”
Bent Arrow gulped and bent his head. Only girls cried. Certainly a boy
of thirteen summers didn’t, but Flying Arrow’s unexpected praise had
brought tears very close to Bent Arrow’s eyes.
“When your leg is completely healed, you’ll be one of the best runners
in the whole Crow Nation,” Flying Arrow went on. “You are much improved
since your last race.”
“I’ll keep practicing,” Bent Arrow vowed.
“Clawing Bear wants to see you,” Flying Arrow told him.
Bent Arrow glanced at his uncle’s face. He could see nothing there to
tell him what the medicine man wanted. Was he to hear bad news about his
leg? He would have liked to ask Flying Arrow why the medicine man wanted
to see him, but Crow boys were not expected to ask questions.
“I’ll go now,” he agreed.
He turned from his uncle and went past the warriors who were still
gathered around Lone Eagle, and on toward the camp. It wasn’t a large
camp. There were only about twenty tepees, set up in two irregular
lines. This was a hunting party out to lay in a supply of buffalo meat
for the winter which was not too far away. The hunters had brought their
squaws along. The women would take care of curing and drying the meat
that the hunters brought.
The medicine man’s tepee was the last one in the back row and was placed
a little apart from the others. Clawing Bear was sitting in front of his
tepee.
“Come in, Bent Arrow,” Clawing Bear invited, getting slowly to his feet.
Bent Arrow followed the medicine man into the tepee. Clawing Bear sat
near the fire and motioned Bent Arrow to sit beside him. The boy sat
quietly while the medicine man selected a pipe, filled it, and lighted
it with a brand from the fire. Clawing Bear inhaled deeply, and slowly
blew the smoke to the east. After a pause, he took a second puff and
blew it to the south. In the same way he blew smoke to the west and to
the north. Then he laid the pipe aside.
“You ran a good race today,” he said.
“I didn’t know you were watching,” Bent Arrow answered.
“I don’t miss many races,” Clawing Bear replied with a smile. “I am
pleased that you are running better.”
“Your treatment is making my leg better,” Bent Arrow explained. “That is
why I am able to run faster.”
“It is about your leg that I wanted to talk with you,” Clawing Bear told
him.
Bent Arrow held himself as motionless as possible while the medicine man
again filled the pipe and again blew smoke in the directions of the four
winds.
“When you were very small, only in your second summer,” Clawing Bear
finally began, “your parents took you with a hunting party like this
one. One day, when most of the hunters were gone, the Sioux attacked the
camp. There were not enough Crow warriors in camp to protect it. When
Flying Arrow and the other hunters returned, they found the camp
destroyed and, apparently, everyone in it slain.”
The medicine man stared silently at the fire for a long time.
“It was while the hunters were holding the death ceremonies for our
people,” Clawing Bear resumed, “that Flying Arrow found you. Your right
leg was badly injured. Your uncle set it as carefully as he could.
Several Crow warriors looked at you. Each of them shook his head.
“‘It would be better for the small boy to follow his parents to the
Happy Hunting Grounds,’ one of the warriors told your uncle.”
Clawing Bear stopped and looked at Bent Arrow.
“The lot of a cripple is bad,” he said gruffly.
Bent Arrow nodded without speaking.
“‘I shall take him to my friend, Clawing Bear, the medicine man,’ your
uncle told them.
“He did. I have given you every treatment handed down by Crow medicine
men since the Great Spirit walked on earth and taught warriors how to
live. Your uncle has seen that you have had every needed exercise. Today
you outran two fine racers. The Great Spirit has been kind to you.”
“I am grateful to you and my uncle, too,” Bent Arrow said. “How can I
ever repay you?”
“When you are completely cured, we shall be repaid,” Clawing Bear
answered.
Apparently the medicine man had completed his story, but he didn’t make
the sign of dismissal. Bent Arrow waited.
“I have had a medicine dream about you,” Clawing Bear resumed. “Not all
of it was clear. However, there will be trouble with the Sioux. You and
Flying Arrow will be in great danger. There was something about an eagle
or an eagle feather, it wasn’t clear which. Yet I saw you running
swiftly. I saw that your leg was well.”
Bent Arrow’s face glowed. He hardly heard the words about danger. The
medicine man’s dream meant that he would be well. Already he could see
himself winning a great race and earning a new name much better than
Bent Arrow.
“How are you doing with your swimming lessons?” Clawing Bear interrupted
his thoughts.
Bent Arrow shivered at the memory of the morning’s icy dip. There hadn’t
actually been ice on the water, but there had been frost on the grass
along the path to the river. Crow boys were required to swim every day
until the ice on the river was too thick to be broken.
“I swim well,” Bent Arrow explained, “but my diving isn’t very good. The
other boys ducked me again this morning.”
Clawing Bear nodded understandingly.
“Keep practicing,” he advised. “It won’t be long until you dive well
enough so that the boys will have no excuse to duck you.”
“I don’t know why it is so hard for me to learn to do things,” Bent
Arrow said, with a touch of complaint in his voice. “My uncle does
everything well.”
“Your uncle learned the same way you are learning,” Clawing Bear
answered sharply. “Every Crow is expected to do his best. See that you
are a good Crow.”
“I’ll do my best,” Bent Arrow promised.
Clawing Bear made the sign of dismissal. Bent Arrow got to his feet and
stepped out of the tepee. He looked about the camp to see what the other
boys were doing. There were two younger boys playing near one of the
tepees, but Bent Arrow could see none of the boys of his own age. He
remembered that they had planned to hunt rabbits. He knew where they
would be hunting, but it was too late to join them. The sun was so warm
that Bent Arrow decided this would be a good time to practice diving. He
hurried through the camp and along the path to the river.
Usually, the chief in charge of a hunting party selected a place along
the river for a camp. Chief Barking Wolf had chosen a place near a
spring and back a short distance from the river. Bent Arrow went to the
top of the low hill which was between the camp and the river. As soon as
he was at the top of the hill, he began to run. He raced to the
riverbank, leaped high, and dived into the water. It was a clean dive,
barely making a splash.
“If I dive that well tomorrow, the other boys won’t get to duck me,” he
thought, as he rose to the surface.
He climbed out of the river, went up the hill, and again made a running
dive. This was a good dive, too. He climbed up onto the bank and rested.
The camp swimming teacher had been urging the boys to practice swimming
under water. Bent Arrow decided that he would make one more practice
dive. If it proved as good as the others, he would see how far he could
swim under water.
To make the practice more fun, he pretended that he was escaping from
enemies. When he was ready to dive, he bent low and ran as hard as he
could. His dive carried him well out into the river. He knifed into the
water with no more splash than a jumping fish would have made. He held
his breath and swam under water with the current. He stayed under until
it seemed his lungs would burst. At last he let his head rise above the
surface enough so that he could breathe. While he gulped fresh air, Bent
Arrow’s eyes were measuring the distance he had covered. He had swum
much farther under water than he had supposed he could. Keeping up his
game of escape, he sank below the surface again.
The next time he was forced to raise his head, he found that he was
below the first bend. That was almost as well as a warrior could do. He
noticed a clump of brush overhanging the river near him. If he really
were a warrior trying to escape from enemies, that would be the place to
leave the water. He swam toward the shore and managed to grasp one of
the low-hanging branches. Carefully he pulled himself out of the water
onto the bank. He crept behind the clump of brush and stretched out to
rest.
Bent Arrow lay still, letting the sun warm and dry him. As long as he
pretended that enemies were following him, it was easy for him to lie
quiet. Suddenly he heard a faint splash which sounded as though it might
be near the other bank of the river. He was almost certain that the
splash had been made by a jumping fish, but an escaping warrior would
neglect no precaution. Cautiously Bent Arrow raised his head until he
could see between the branches of the sheltering bush. He jerked his
head down as suddenly as though he were ducking an arrow. He had seen a
Sioux warrior bending down to drink on the other side of the river.
[Illustration: _Bent Arrow raised his head until he could see_]
Bent Arrow knew that he must carry a warning to camp. Sioux warriors
this near a Crow camp meant danger. He turned his head enough to look at
the wide space of sand which divided his hiding place from the shelter
of the trees. If he tried to dart across there, the Sioux warrior was
sure to see him.
Carefully he raised his head again to look across the river. Now there
were three Sioux drinking at the river, and one standing behind them
looking straight at Bent Arrow. Bent Arrow had to fight down the impulse
to jump and run for camp. If the Sioux hadn’t already seen him, a sudden
movement would reveal him. Evidently the Sioux hadn’t noticed him. The
warrior’s glance passed on along the riverbank. A moment later the three
Indians got to their feet, and all four of them slipped silently into
the brush which lined that side of the river.
Bent Arrow watched until his neck muscles became so cramped that he had
to move. Slowly he lowered his head and stretched out flat. When the
pain in his neck had stopped, he again raised his head and looked across
the river. All of the time that he watched the other shore, he was torn
between the fear that he was delaying too long and the fear that if he
moved too soon the Sioux would see him. At last he decided it was time
for him to start.
Slowly he edged away from the sheltering clump of brush. He kept flat on
his stomach and wriggled across the wide stretch of sand. When he
reached the trees, he crawled a short distance among them. Then he got
to his feet and dashed to the Crow camp. He raced straight to the tepee
of his uncle.
The flap of the tepee was pulled shut. Flying Arrow was asleep or he was
making medicine. A Crow warrior should not be disturbed, but Bent Arrow
knew that his message was too important to be delayed.
“Uncle,” he called urgently, “there are Sioux warriors on the other bank
of the river.”
Before Bent Arrow had finished speaking, Flying Arrow stepped out of the
tepee.
“How many?” Flying Arrow asked.
Bent Arrow held up his right hand with the thumb doubled under.
“That is all I saw,” he answered. “They were at the first bend of the
river.”
“Stay here,” Flying Arrow ordered and trotted off along the line of
tepees.
A few moments later, Flying Arrow led a small band of warriors out of
camp. Before that band had gone far, a party of mounted warriors, with
Chief Barking Wolf at the head, rode out of camp circling toward the
land of the setting sun.
Bent Arrow waited impatiently for word of the pursuit. There was some
excitement in camp when the two scouts who had been sent out early that
morning returned with the report that they had found a large herd of
buffaloes. For a while Bent Arrow forgot his worries and spent his time
wondering if he would be allowed to go with the hunters. However, as the
afternoon wore on, all of his thoughts were on the warriors who were
chasing the Sioux.
The sun was almost down when the two parties of warriors returned to
camp. Flying Arrow came straight to his own tepee.
“They escaped,” he told Bent Arrow. “They had horses hidden not far from
the river. They heard us coming and got too great a start for our
warriors to catch them.”
“Will they be back to try to steal our horses?” Bent Arrow asked.
“Possibly not,” Flying Arrow replied. “Sioux like to make winter camp
early. That party may start toward their main camp now.”
While Bent Arrow and his uncle were eating their evening meal, a
messenger came to the tepee.
“There is to be a buffalo hunt tomorrow,” the messenger announced. “Bent
Arrow has been chosen to help tend the horses.”
Bent Arrow was so excited at the messenger’s words that he could
scarcely finish his supper. Although the boys who tended the pack horses
during a hunt had a difficult time, there was always a chance that they
would get to take part in the hunting, too.
“You’d better crawl into your robes and get a good night’s rest,” Flying
Arrow suggested. “Tomorrow will be an exciting day.”
Bent Arrow expected to find it hard to fall asleep, but it wasn’t long
after he had crawled into his robes before he dozed off. Soon his sleep
was disturbed by a dream. In his dream he and another boy were chasing a
buffalo. The other boy rode alongside the buffalo and was drawing his
bow for a shot when his horse stumbled. The boy was thrown in front of
the charging buffalo. Bent Arrow tried to cry out a warning, and, in
trying to call out, he awoke. He immediately told his uncle of his
dream.
“I’ll talk to the medicine man,” Flying Arrow said, after a thoughtful
silence. “It must be a warning of some kind. I’m sure Clawing Bear will
understand it.”
Bent Arrow again dropped off to sleep.
_CHAPTER TWO_
Bent Arrow was awake early the next morning. He crawled out of his
buffalo robes and dressed quickly. There was a little twinge of pain in
his right leg, but he knew that would be gone as soon as he had walked a
few paces. He was eager for the swimming teacher to give the call for
practice. He was sure that today he would dive as well as any of the
boys.
When he stepped out of the tepee, he lost some of his eagerness. There
was a light covering of snow on the ground. Before he had a chance
really to worry about how cold the water would be, Bent Arrow heard the
call of the teacher and saw the boys forming a line. He trotted over and
took his place.
When it was Bent Arrow’s turn to dive, he dashed forward, leaped high,
and went into the water with scarcely a splash. He came up gasping and
sputtering, but smiling. He had made a good dive. He wouldn’t be ducked
today.
Sly Fox was the only boy to make a poor dive. Four boys grabbed him and
shoved his head under water. Fortunately for Sly Fox, all of the boys
were eager to get out of the cold water. They let him up almost at once.
As soon as the last boy had dived, the teacher dismissed them. Bent
Arrow was glad to get out of the cold water and race back to the tepee.
As soon as they had eaten, Bent Arrow and his uncle went to the corral.
Flying Arrow caught his best buffalo horse to ride on the hunt. Bent
Arrow hoped that he would be given one of the faster horses, too.
Instead, Flying Arrow caught Rock, one of the oldest and slowest of his
horses, for Bent Arrow to ride.
“Rock is dependable,” Flying Arrow explained. “He’ll make your work
easier and safer.”
Bent Arrow mounted Rock and helped his uncle drive two other horses out
of the herd to be used as pack animals. Other boys and warriors were
busy at the same task. For a time there was great confusion as the
riders worked to drive the horses they wanted and at the same time make
sure none of the others got out of the corral. As soon as Flying Arrow’s
two horses were out of the corral, Bent Arrow was left to watch them
while the warrior went back to help the others.
Even after all of the horses to be used were out of the corral, it was
considerable work to hold them together in a herd. At last the pack
horses were quiet enough so that the party could start. Chief Barking
Wolf ordered the warriors to watch the horses while he gave the boys
their instructions. At his signal the boys gathered around him.
“Each of you is to be given one good hunting arrow,” he told them.
The boys exchanged triumphant glances. They had been afraid that they
would be given the job of watching the pack horses all of the time and
wouldn’t be allowed to hunt. The leader’s next words brought looks of
disappointment to the boys’ faces.
“You are to keep the arrows as proof that you have been on a buffalo
hunt,” Chief Barking Wolf continued, “but you are to do no hunting. A
dream has warned us that the Great Spirit does not want boys to hunt
buffaloes today.”
Bent Arrow was given an arrow by one of the warriors, while other
warriors handed arrows to each of the other boys. If he hadn’t been so
badly disappointed about not being allowed to hunt, Bent Arrow would
have been highly elated at receiving the arrow. It was a fine one,
probably the best one in the warrior’s quiver. There was a sharp stone
head on it, and the arrow had been carefully balanced. Even a poor
hunter should be able to kill a buffalo with so fine an arrow.
When each boy had received his arrow, Chief Barking Wolf sent them back
to watch the pack horses. The warriors fell into line behind the leader,
each one in the place that had been assigned to him. As soon as all were
ready, Chief Barking Wolf rode to the head of the party and led toward
the rising sun.
It was now that Rock proved Flying Arrow’s wisdom in selecting him for
Bent Arrow. The pack horses seemed to want to go anywhere except where
the warriors were going. First one horse would try to break out of the
herd and then another. Every time one tried to break away, Rock was
there to head him off. He acted as though he could guess when a horse
was going to try to get away.
“I was feeling sorry for you when Flying Arrow gave you Rock to ride,”
Sly Fox admitted. “Now I see that you are lucky he did. Rock is making
the work easier for all of us.”
For a time the boys had to give all of their attention to controlling
the herd of pack horses. But, by the time the party was well out of
sight of the camp, Rock had so discouraged the would-be runaways that
the whole herd was moving steadily after the warriors. This gave the
boys a chance to ride in pairs and talk together, as the sun climbed
steadily in the sky and melted the thin blanket of snow.
“The sun is mad at Old-Man-of-the-North for sending snow so early,” Bent
Arrow told Sly Fox.
“Yes,” Sly Fox agreed. “He has taken away all of the snow. The sun is
powerful.”
“Old-Man-of-the-North is tricky,” Bent Arrow remarked. “Sometimes he
sends snow when we aren’t ready for it. Other times he won’t send it
when we want it.”
“I hope that he sends much snow as soon as we have plenty of buffalo
meat and are in our winter camp,” Sly Fox exclaimed. “We need snow for
our winter games.”
Bent Arrow nodded his agreement. Indian boys always had fun, but winter
was the best time for games. It was a good time to learn new things,
too. The warriors had leisure to teach the boys how to make bows and
arrows. There were always stories to be told of battles and great
heroes.
The sun was not yet overhead when Chief Barking Wolf stopped the hunting
party in a small valley. He pointed to the low hills ahead.
“The herd of buffaloes is in a large valley across those hills,” he
announced. “The hunters will ride across the hills and you boys will
stay here with the pack horses. Wild Wind will be the last warrior. He
will stay at the top of the hill until the rest of us have started to
run the buffaloes. Then he will signal for you boys to bring the pack
horses.”
As the warriors rode ahead, the boys were kept busy holding the pack
horses in a herd. It was almost as much work keeping the herd from
following now as it had been before to get it started. Sometimes, when
one of the pack horses broke out of the herd, Bent Arrow was tempted to
pretend that he couldn’t turn it back. If he let the horse go to the top
of the hill, Bent Arrow would be where he could watch all of the
excitement of the hunt. He was ashamed of the thought. A Crow boy who
expected to become a warrior should do his best to carry out orders.
Rock seemed to realize that it was up to him to keep his rider from
trouble. The horse worked even harder than he had before. It wasn’t long
until the pack animals realized that they couldn’t escape as long as
Rock was watching them. They quieted and began to graze.
Sly Fox rode over beside Bent Arrow.
“I’m going to ride over there and shoot a buffalo,” Sly Fox told Bent
Arrow, speaking low so the other boys couldn’t hear him.
“Don’t do it,” Bent Arrow warned. “Chief Barking Wolf will have you
punished. You know how warriors are punished when they disobey orders on
a hunting trip. You will be whipped in front of the whole camp.”
“The punishment will be forgotten if I kill a buffalo,” Sly Fox
retorted.
“That won’t—,” Bent Arrow began, but at that moment Wild Wind gave the
signal for the boys to bring the pack horses.
Bent Arrow and Sly Fox were in front of the herd. They turned their
horses and led the way. The horses followed readily. At the top of the
low hill, the boys paused to watch the hunt.
From their place, the boys could see far out over the wide valley. Truly
the scouts had found a great herd of buffaloes. The attack of the
hunters had started the herd running, but even yet a fourth of the
valley was covered with buffaloes lumbering in flight ahead of the
hunters. Many lay where the hunters’ arrows had slain them.
Bent Arrow noticed that the hunters were riding into the herd, selecting
the younger animals. As the boys watched, one old buffalo broke from the
herd, turned back, and started running up the hill.
“Here’s my chance to get a buffalo,” Sly Fox shouted excitedly.
“Stay here,” Bent Arrow warned. “We are forbidden to hunt.”
If Sly Fox heard the warning, he was too excited to heed it. He kicked
his heels against his horse’s side and started it running to the right
so that he could turn and get behind the buffalo. Bent Arrow hesitated.
If he rode after Sly Fox, the warriors might think that he, too, was
disobeying orders. He remembered his dream of the night before. The next
moment he sent Rock racing after the other horse. He had to stop Sly Fox
before it was too late. Rock tried his best, but it wasn’t good enough.
Sly Fox’s horse had carried its rider alongside the buffalo while Rock
and Bent Arrow were still several paces behind.
Sly Fox had his bow ready. He leaned toward the buffalo, taking careful
aim. As Sly Fox drew the bow back, the buffalo swung its head wildly.
Sly Fox’s startled horse dodged aside, missed his footing, stumbled, and
fell. Sly Fox jumped clear of the falling horse, his bow flying out of
his hands as he lit. He leaned over to grab the bow. Bent Arrow shouted
a warning. The buffalo had hesitated a moment as though it were
completely confused. Now it charged at Sly Fox. Sly Fox glanced toward
his horse, but the buffalo was between them. The boy turned and ran.
When the buffalo hesitated, it gave Rock a chance to close the gap
between them. As the buffalo turned to charge at Sly Fox, Rock whirled
to follow. Bent Arrow’s heart stood still as he felt the horse’s hoofs
slip on the wet grass. Somehow Rock kept from falling. In two strides
the horse was alongside the crazed buffalo. One more jump and the
buffalo would be upon Sly Fox. Bent Arrow leaned toward the buffalo,
took quick aim, and fired the arrow for the point just back of the
buffalo’s foreleg. It was a good shot. The arrow sank in to the shaft,
but it seemed to have no effect on the buffalo. The animal leaped
forward. Its head struck Sly Fox and sent him flying. The buffalo half
turned to charge again and then suddenly slumped to the ground and lay
still.
[Illustration: {_Bent Arrow leaned toward the buffalo and fired the
arrow_}]
Before Bent Arrow could reach him, Sly Fox jumped to his feet.
“You saved my life, Bent Arrow!” Sly Fox exclaimed.
“Are you all right?” Bent Arrow demanded anxiously.
“I seem to be,” Sly Fox answered.
Two warriors came dashing up to the boys. Bent Arrow’s heart sank when
he saw that one of the warriors was Chief Barking Wolf. The chief looked
sternly at Bent Arrow.
“I gave orders that no boy was to hunt buffaloes today,” he said
sternly.
Bent Arrow hung his head. For a moment he had hoped that he would make
his uncle happy by acting bravely; instead, he had brought disgrace
because he had disobeyed orders.
“It was my fault,” Sly Fox explained quickly. “I hunted the buffalo.
Bent Arrow killed it to save my life.”
“Explain,” Chief Barking Wolf ordered gruffly.
Sly Fox told of how he had chased the buffalo and how his horse had
fallen.
“If Bent Arrow and his horse hadn’t acted quickly, the buffalo would
have killed me,” Sly Fox finished.
Chief Barking Wolf turned toward Bent Arrow.
“You did well,” he praised, a smile replacing the stern look on his
face. “I like an almost-warrior who doesn’t make excuses. A good Crow
knows when orders must be disobeyed.”
Bent Arrow felt a lump rising in his throat as it had done when his
uncle praised his running. He bent his head so the chief couldn’t see
his face.
Chief Barking Wolf jumped from his horse. He and the warrior stepped
over to the slain buffalo. Together they rolled the animal over on its
other side. The shaft of the arrow had been broken off as the animal
fell on it. Barking Wolf studied the broken arrow for a moment.
“That was a very good shot,” he said, turning toward Bent Arrow, “well
aimed, and powerfully driven. But you have lost your good arrow. It is
broken.”
“He is to have mine,” Sly Fox said, offering it to Bent Arrow.
Bent Arrow hesitated. The arrow had been given to Sly Fox to keep as a
token that he had been on a buffalo hunt. Sly Fox would want it to show
to younger boys.
“Take it,” Chief Barking Wolf commanded. “If Sly Fox had not offered it
to you, I would have ordered him to break it.”
Chief Barking Wolf mounted his horse.
“You are to go back to camp alone,” he told Sly Fox. “You have disobeyed
orders. You are not in this hunting party.”
Without a word, Sly Fox mounted his horse and started back to camp. Bent
Arrow felt sorry for his friend, yet he knew that Sly Fox was lucky.
Chief Barking Wolf might have ordered a far more severe punishment for
the boy’s disobedience.
“Bring the pack horses,” the chief ordered. “The men are ready.”
As many buffaloes as could possibly be taken back to camp had been
slain. The hunters had turned back and were butchering the animals. As
the boys came to a hunter, they would stop the herd of pack horses and
leave those belonging to that warrior. When they came to Flying Arrow,
Bent Arrow drove his two horses from the herd and dismounted to help his
uncle.
Butchering was done swiftly. The hide was removed and the carcass
dressed. The meat was cut into large pieces and then wrapped in the
hides to make two bundles. The bundles were laid across the pack horses’
backs in such a way that they balanced each other.
The greatest difficulty was in preparing the head. First the tongue was
removed. Every Crow knew that the tongue was one of the best parts of
the buffalo. Next the head was cut from the carcass and beaten against a
rock until the bone shattered. Then the brain was removed. Crow squaws
would need the brain to rub on the underside of the hide. Without it,
the hide could not be properly tanned.
Bent Arrow and his uncle were the first to have their buffaloes
butchered and the meat loaded on pack horses.
“We’ll take the hide from the buffalo you killed,” Flying Arrow said.
“Since killing that buffalo saved the life of a Crow, the hide should be
good medicine for you.”
Bent Arrow nodded. Every Crow carried a small pouch in which he had his
medicine. The medicine wasn’t carried as something to cure sickness; it
was to help guard the warrior from danger. Not all warriors had the same
things in their medicine bags. Usually a warrior learned in a dream what
he should put in his medicine bag to protect him. In Flying Arrow’s
medicine bag there were the claw of a bear, a piece of the fur of a
wolf, and a hawk’s feather. In a dream a bear had told Flying Arrow to
get a hawk’s feather to carry with a bear’s claw and a piece of wolf
fur. It must have been powerful medicine. Since he had had it, Flying
Arrow had made many successful raids. Bent Arrow hoped his would prove
as powerful.
When Flying Arrow saw the buffalo that Bent Arrow had killed, he seemed
pleased.
“Besides the skin, we shall take the buffalo’s heart,” he told Bent
Arrow. “It was a brave buffalo. By eating its heart, you will become
braver.”
It was a triumphant band of hunters that rode back into camp as the sun
was sinking in the western sky. Here was a great supply of meat to be
added to the tribe’s winter store. In a few days the hunting party could
start back toward the big winter camp of all the Crow tribes.
As soon as the pack horses were unloaded and put back into the corral,
Flying Arrow cooked fresh buffalo steaks.
“You must take a gift to Clawing Bear,” he told Bent Arrow. “The
medicine man will want to know about your hunting. It may be that he
will have found another message in the dream you had last night.”
Flying Arrow selected the choicest tongue, wrapped it carefully, and
handed it to Bent Arrow. As he made his way toward the medicine man’s
tepee with the gift in his hands, Bent Arrow had the feeling that this
was to be a very happy visit for him.
_CHAPTER THREE_
While Bent Arrow was still several paces from the medicine man’s tepee,
Clawing Bear called out to him.
“Come in, Bent Arrow, and tell me about the buffalo you killed.”
“How did you know that I had killed a buffalo?” Bent Arrow asked. “Did
someone report to you so soon?”
“No,” Clawing Bear answered with a smile. “Sometimes we medicine men see
things which others cannot see. Now tell me about it.”
As briefly as he could, Bent Arrow told of Sly Fox’s attempt to shoot a
buffalo and how his horse had stumbled.
“My horse deserves more credit than I,” Bent Arrow finished. “By the
time I would have thought of what to do, it would have been too late.”
“That’s the way I saw it,” Clawing Bear said, nodding. “Yet you have not
received too much credit. You did well.”
The medicine man filled his pipe and lit it with an ember from the fire.
He blew smoke to the north, the east, the south, and the west. He laid
the pipe aside and stared into the fire as though he were watching some
interesting happening. When he spoke, his voice was so low that Bent
Arrow had to lean forward to catch his words.
“You were in great danger today,” Clawing Bear told him. “You did not
have the proper medicine. When I saw you chasing that buffalo, there was
a buzzard soaring above you.”
Bent Arrow shivered. Buzzards were the omen of misfortune. They picked
the flesh from slain animals and from warriors who had not been given
proper burial.
“I could see that the buzzard was watching you,” Clawing Bear continued.
“When you leaned toward the buffalo to shoot your arrow, the buzzard
started down. Then I caught sight of an eagle above the buzzard. A
feather fell from the eagle’s tail. It passed just ahead of the
buzzard’s beak. The buzzard turned and flew away. You must have an
eagle’s feather. It is your good medicine to protect you from danger.”
“How am I to get an eagle’s feather?” Bent Arrow asked. “The eagles nest
far up on the peaks. Already the snow is deep there.”
“You must have an eagle feather,” Clawing Bear insisted.
Bent Arrow asked no more questions. If Clawing Bear knew the way for him
to get an eagle feather, the medicine man would have told him. Before
Clawing Bear dismissed Bent Arrow, he examined the boy’s leg.
“My medicine has done all it can,” Clawing Bear said. “You must do much
walking and running. I believe that when you have found an eagle
feather, you will be cured.”
The next day was a busy one for the boys who had been with the hunters.
It was their job to build tripods on which the squaws would hang the
buffalo meat to dry and smoke. Sly Fox was not allowed to help. As an
added punishment for hunting when he was ordered not to, he was given
the task of dragging the heavy buffalo hides to the river where the
squaws would tan them.
Bent Arrow worked eagerly. It was good to see the supply of meat being
prepared for winter use. Best of all, meat hanging on the tripods meant
that tomorrow would come the call for a game of wolves.
Twice during the day, Bent Arrow saw the swimming teacher, but the
warrior didn’t speak to him. If he had plans for a game of wolves, the
teacher was keeping them to himself. The next morning, at the swimming
lesson, Bent Arrow stayed near the teacher, hoping there would be word
of the game, but again nothing was said. However, when Bent Arrow had
returned to the tepee and was eating his meal, a low whistle sounded.
That was the signal for the boys to meet.
Bent Arrow hurried out of the tepee, but as soon as he was outside he
moved cautiously. He slipped from his tepee to the next one and on down
the line to the last. Here he dropped to his hands and knees and crawled
until he had crossed the low hill and was out of sight of the camp.
By the time Bent Arrow reached the meeting place, the teacher and
several boys were there. Bent Arrow took his place in the circle of
boys. All of them waited for the late-comers.
As soon as the last boy arrived, the teacher began to explain the game
of wolves. Although Bent Arrow had heard the explanation before, he
listened as intently as the two younger boys who were hearing it for the
first time. The teacher gave a brief account of the wolves who were the
Crow scouts. He told of the time the wolves had disguised themselves and
crawled across the prairie and made a successful attack on a large
hunting party of Sioux.
“Today you are the wolves,” he told the boys. “The meat on the tripods
represents Sioux horses. The boy who captures the first Sioux horse and
the boy who captures the largest one will get these prizes.”
Bent Arrow gave a gasp of elation when the teacher held up two eagle
feathers. Here was a simple way to get the medicine which Clawing Bear
had said he must have. He was so sure he would win one of the prizes
that he almost reached out for it.
“Now disguise yourselves as wolves,” the teacher ordered.
Bent Arrow and the other boys trooped to the riverbank. They dug up
handfuls of mud and completely covered themselves with it, even rubbing
the mud into their hair. As the mud dried, it took on a grayish tinge so
that when the boys crawled through the dry grass their coloring blended
with it and they could hardly be seen.
At a signal from the teacher, the boys separated and started toward
camp. Bent Arrow circled around the camp to approach the tripods of meat
from the far side. If the squaws were expecting a raid, they wouldn’t
look for the raiders to come from that direction. When he neared the
camp, he got to his hands and knees and crawled.
The row of tripods extended beyond the last tepee in camp. Bent Arrow
saw two squaws standing in front of that tepee talking together. He
heard one of the squaws say that they should be watching for a magpie
raid. The squaws always referred to the boys in the wolf game as
magpies, because flocks of magpies often swarmed on the drying meat.
One of the women glanced straight at Bent Arrow. He held himself
motionless. It didn’t seem possible that she would fail to see him, but
she turned toward her own tepee. Bent Arrow breathed a sigh of relief
when the other squaw went on with her work.
Bent Arrow crawled to the first tripod. None of the pieces of meat on it
was very large. He looked down the line to the next tripod. There was a
large piece hanging on it. Before he crawled ahead, Bent Arrow glanced
toward the tepees again. None of the squaws was watching. When he
reached the second tripod, he found that the piece of meat wasn’t as
large as he had thought. He glanced down the line. There was a much
larger chunk on a tripod farther along. Again he made sure that no squaw
was watching before he crawled on.
This time he had made no mistake. He had found a large piece of meat, so
large, in fact, that it was sure to win the prize. He reached out to
take it from the tripod. At that instant there was a loud chatter of
talk behind him. He jumped to his feet to run, but he was too late. A
squaw grabbed him with a grip too powerful for him to twist loose.
“We’ll find out who this thief is,” the squaw stormed.
In spite of Bent Arrow’s twisting and struggling, he was dragged to the
near-by spring. The squaw held him with one hand. With the other she
dipped water and splashed it on his face until all of the mud was washed
off. By the time that she had finished, she was laughing.
“I see that the magpie is Bent Arrow,” she said with a smile. “Well,
grab a chunk of meat and run. Boys will be boys.”
Bent Arrow seized the meat and dashed out of the camp. He was the last
boy to get back to the meeting place. A fire had been built, and meat
already was roasting over it. The teacher took Bent Arrow’s meat and put
it over the fire.
“You captured a truly large piece of meat,” he told Bent Arrow.
Bent Arrow made no reply. He took his place in the circle of boys. He
was able to give only part of his attention to the words the teacher was
speaking. He had brought the largest chunk of meat. That entitled him to
the eagle feather. Still, there was an uneasy doubt in his mind. He
thought back to the teacher’s instructions. They had been that a prize
went to the one who captured the largest one. Captured—His thoughts were
interrupted by the call to food.
The meat was good, and the adventure of having helped get it in a raid
added to its flavor. Ordinarily Bent Arrow would have enjoyed it
greatly. Now he was so busy with his thoughts that he scarcely noticed
its taste. When everyone had eaten his fill, the teacher called for the
boys’ attention.
“We’ll have an account of your adventures,” he announced. “Running Elk,
you were the first to return with a prize. Tell us how you did so well.”
Running Elk stood up. He told that he had thought of the shortest way to
camp. He had taken the risk of running to the first tepee and walking
from it to the nearest tripod. It had occurred to him that the squaws
would pay no attention to one boy. He had been right. He had grabbed a
piece of meat and was away from the camp while the other boys were still
crawling toward the tripods.
“You did well,” the teacher praised. “Sometimes it is better to take
greater risks in order to catch the enemy unprepared. This eagle feather
is the reward for your coup. You may wear it as a warrior would who had
counted coup.”
“Thank you,” Running Elk responded, proudly accepting the award.
Several other boys who had returned quickly with their captures were
called upon. After them the teacher turned to Bent Arrow.
“You brought the largest piece of meat, Bent Arrow,” he said. “Tell us
of your adventure.”
Bent Arrow hesitated. Slowly he shook his head.
“I didn’t capture it,” he admitted. “A squaw captured me. She let me
take the piece of meat so I wouldn’t have to return empty-handed. I
didn’t win the prize.”
A wave of laughter ran around the circle of boys as Bent Arrow hung his
head. A stern look from the teacher stopped the laughter.
“Since the meat was a gift, you did not earn the prize,” he agreed.
“However, you have shown yourself to be a good Crow by refusing to take
an unearned reward. If I had another prize, you should have it.”
The teacher turned to Sly Fox.
“Yours was next in size,” he said. “Tell of your adventure.”
Sly Fox admitted that he had been lucky. He had selected the largest
piece of meat on the first tripod that he came to. He had wanted to look
farther for a larger piece, but as several squaws were moving about the
tepees, he had decided to take that piece and get away. He was glad that
he had won the prize.
“You did well,” the teacher said. “This eagle feather is yours to be
worn as proudly as a warrior who has counted coup.”
“Thank you,” Sly Fox responded as he accepted the prize.
He turned to face Bent Arrow.
“I want to give this coup feather to you, Bent Arrow,” he said, “not
only because you have proved yourself a good Crow, but also because you
saved my life.”
Bent Arrow gave a gasp of pleasure. He was to have the eagle feather
which Clawing Bear said he needed for his medicine bag. He reached out
his hand to accept it but, at the last moment, drew his hand back.
“I can’t accept it,” he pointed out. “People would see it and think that
I had won the prize.”
The teacher nodded his approval.
“We’ll rest a while,” the teacher announced. “Then we’ll swim to wash
off the mud. That will be the end of our game.”
Bent Arrow was the first to dive into the water, and Sly Fox was not far
behind him. The two boys scuffled for a time, each trying to duck the
other. Bent Arrow managed to get a lucky hold and was able to shove Sly
Fox’s head under the water. When Bent Arrow released him, Sly Fox came
sputtering to the surface. He laughingly swam a few strokes away from
Bent Arrow, but a moment later he swam close again.
“There are Sioux warriors on the other bank,” he whispered. “One of them
moved just as I got my head out of water.”
Bent Arrow just managed to keep from glancing toward the other bank. A
look in that direction might have warned the hidden Sioux that they had
been seen.
“Let’s swim to the teacher and tell him so that he can call the boys
from the water,” Sly Fox suggested.
“We’d better pretend that we are still playing,” Bent Arrow warned. “The
Sioux will suspect any strange actions.”
Sly Fox nodded and made a sudden dash at Bent Arrow. Bent Arrow swam
away as rapidly as he could. Anyone watching would have thought that it
was an accident that Bent Arrow swam so close to the teacher.
“Sly Fox saw Sioux warriors on the other bank,” Bent Arrow whispered, as
he swam near the teacher.
“Keep up your game,” the teacher ordered without glancing toward him.
Obediently Bent Arrow turned and swam back out into the stream. Sly Fox
guessed his purpose and swam in pursuit. A few minutes later the teacher
whistled the signal for the boys to come out of the water. Bent Arrow
and Sly Fox were the last to climb up onto the bank.
“As soon as you are behind the willows, start running to camp,” the
teacher ordered in a whisper. “The rest of us will follow later.”
Bent Arrow and Sly Fox walked slowly to the clump of willows. As soon as
the brush hid them from watchers on the other bank, the two boys broke
into a run. Bent Arrow ran straight to his uncle’s tepee, while Sly Fox
ran on to take the warning to Chief Barking Wolf.
This time no warriors were sent on foot. All of them went to the corral
for horses. The warriors were divided into two parties, one under Flying
Arrow went upstream, while the other under Chief Barking Wolf went
downstream. As the warriors rode out of camp, the teacher returned with
the other boys.
The sun was still high in the western sky when the warriors returned
empty-handed. Bent Arrow took his uncle’s horse to the corral and
hurried back to the tepee.
“They got away again,” Flying Arrow said. “We ought to send a party of
warriors to punish them.”
That evening the warriors were summoned to a council meeting. Bent Arrow
was proud that he was summoned too. When he and his uncle reached the
council wigwam, Sly Fox was there. The two boys waited until all of the
warriors had entered before they went into the tepee. They sat well back
from the circle of warriors. Chief Barking Wolf stood up to speak first.
“We are far from other Crow camps,” the chief said. “We have much meat
that we want to get to the winter camp. Since Sioux warriors have twice
been seen watching us, it would seem wise for us to break camp quickly
and get to our winter grounds where we shall have the help of many
Crows.”
Chief Barking Wolf sat down. He picked up the ceremonial pipe. Leaning
forward, he picked an ember from the fire and lighted the pipe. He took
three puffs before he passed the pipe to Flying Arrow sitting on his
right. Flying Arrow took three puffs and passed the pipe on to the next
warrior. Slowly the pipe went around the circle of warriors and returned
to the chief. He laid it aside carefully. Flying Arrow got to his feet
to speak next.
“Barking Wolf has spoken wisely,” Flying Arrow agreed. “We are far from
other Crow warriors. Yet it is bad to allow the Sioux to spy on our
camp, to make plans to steal our horses and take our scalps. They should
be punished. I believe we should send a party of warriors to teach those
Sioux a lesson.”
Bent Arrow expected to hear shouts of approval come from the circle of
warriors. Instead, the warriors sat silently looking into the fire.
Again Chief Barking Wolf lit the pipe and started it around the circle.
When it came back to him, he carefully put it in its wrappings. This was
a sign that any warrior who wished to speak would now be heard.
Some of the warriors did speak. A few thought that the Sioux should be
punished, but all of them agreed with Chief Barking Wolf that there
should be a larger party of Crows before the attempt was made.
“Then I shall go alone,” Flying Arrow told the warriors. “I’ll take some
of their horses. The Sioux must be punished.”
Some of the warriors tried to convince Flying Arrow that he should wait
until a large war party could be sent against the Sioux. To all urgings,
Flying Arrow shook his head.
“Soon Old-Man-of-the-North will send snow,” he insisted. “Then we’ll
have to wait until spring.”
“It would be better if we could spare a warrior to go with you,” Chief
Barking Wolf said thoughtfully, “but it will take all of our men to get
the meat to winter camp.”
_CHAPTER FOUR_
As soon as he and Bent Arrow had returned to their tepee, Flying Arrow
began to make preparations for his raid against the Sioux. While Bent
Arrow helped his uncle, his mind was busy.
“Chief Barking Wolf thinks that you should not go alone,” Bent Arrow
suggested.
“It would be much better if two of us could go together,” Flying Arrow
agreed. “However, Barking Wolf is right in saying that he can’t spare
another warrior from the hunting party.”
“I could go with you,” Bent Arrow pointed out.
Flying Arrow looked at him with surprise. For a moment Bent Arrow
thought that his suggestion was going to rouse his uncle’s anger. Then
the warrior smiled.
“I should have known that you don’t make words just to hear the sound of
them,” he said. “I am proud that you offered to go, but this raid is too
dangerous.”
“I would get the exercise which Clawing Bear says I need,” Bent Arrow
urged. “I might find an eagle feather, and I can help you by tending the
horses.”
Flying Arrow made no answer. Instead, he gave all of his attention to
arranging the things he was to take with him. Bent Arrow began to fear
that he had talked too much. Evidently he had made his uncle angry.
Flying Arrow emptied the arrows from his quiver. Two of them he tossed
into the fire. He selected three of the best and handed them to Bent
Arrow.
“You may need these,” he said. “There will be hunting to do and perhaps
even a fight with the Sioux.”
“Then I am to go with you?” Bent Arrow exclaimed.
“Yes,” Flying Arrow answered, nodding. “I’ll need help, and you need the
training. I know you’ll obey orders. When I tell you to stay back from
danger, you will do so.”
When everything else was prepared, Flying Arrow filled two small bags
with dried buffalo meat.
“There may be times when we don’t dare build a fire,” he explained,
handing one of the bags to Bent Arrow.
The next morning, just as the eastern sky was lighting up, Flying Arrow
led the way out of camp. He was mounted on his best horse. When he had
given Bent Arrow his choice of the horses, Bent Arrow had selected Rock.
Although the ground was white with frost, when they came to the river,
Bent Arrow jumped from his horse and swam across. On the other side of
the river, he trotted beside his horse until he was thoroughly warmed.
[Illustration: _Flying Arrow led the way out of camp_]
Instead of continuing north to find the Sioux trail, Flying Arrow turned
east and selected the easiest route along the riverbank.
“I’m sure the Sioux circled north and later returned to the river,” he
explained. “We’ll find their trail before the day is over.”
Several times during the day, Bent Arrow dismounted and trotted along
beside his horse. Clawing Bear had said he needed exercise. Bent Arrow
was determined to leave nothing undone that would help cure his leg.
The sun was still hanging in the western sky when Flying Arrow stopped.
Bent Arrow was worried because they had not found the Sioux trail.
Flying Arrow seemed to read his mind.
“The Sioux traveled farther before returning to the river than I
expected them to,” he explained. “We’ll camp here. We’ll find their
trail soon when we start on tomorrow.”
Bent Arrow tended the horses while Flying Arrow built a fire and cooked
the meat they had brought with them. When Bent Arrow returned to the
camping spot, he could see his uncle before he could see the tiny
campfire. Flying Arrow was taking no chances of a fire or its smoke
attracting the Sioux.
It was scarcely daylight the next morning when the two Crows started.
Flying Arrow watched the ground closely as he rode along. They had not
gone far when he dismounted. When Bent Arrow dismounted to join his
uncle, he saw the hoofmarks of several horses.
“The Sioux went to the river to water their horses,” Flying Arrow
explained, pointing to the tracks.
“Did they cross the river?” Bent Arrow asked anxiously, thinking that
the Sioux might have circled back and attacked the Crow hunting camp.
“Probably not,” Flying Arrow answered. “I’m sure we’ll find their trail
a little farther on.”
Flying Arrow started ahead, leading his horse. Bent Arrow followed him.
They had gone only a short distance when they came upon the Sioux trail
leading from the river.
“It is as I expected,” Flying Arrow said. “The Sioux camped by the
river. It looks as though they have given up their plan to raid our
camp.”
“Are they on their way to the Sioux winter camp?” Bent Arrow asked.
“I think they are going farther toward the land of the rising sun,”
Flying Arrow answered. “Probably they want to hunt before they go to
winter camp.”
He studied the trail carefully. Bent Arrow, too, looked at the many
tracks. He tried to judge how many warriors were in the hunting party.
From the tracks, he decided there had been about as many Sioux as he and
Flying Arrow together had fingers.
“There were about this many warriors,” Flying Arrow said, holding up
both hands with his fingers spread.
“I thought there were more,” Bent Arrow admitted.
“Some of the hoofprints were made by horses without riders,” Flying
Arrow explained. “See, there is a difference in the prints.”
[Illustration: _He tried to gauge how many warriors were in the party_]
Bent Arrow looked where his uncle pointed. Some of the hoofmarks were
deeper and clearer than others.
“I thought that the deeper prints were made by horses that came at the
end of the herd,” Bent Arrow told his uncle.
“That is good trailing,” Flying Arrow praised. “Even some warriors
wouldn’t have noticed that there was a difference in the tracks.
However, the deeper marks are made by horses carrying riders.”
“Will we catch up with the Sioux today?” Bent Arrow asked.
“Not unless they stop to hunt,” Flying Arrow answered. “They are too far
ahead of us.”
When Flying Arrow remounted, he did not follow the Sioux trail. Instead,
he stayed on the level ground a short distance from the riverbank. He
kept his horse going faster than he had the day before. Several times
Bent Arrow dismounted and ran beside his horse. He found that he was
able to run farther before his leg began to hurt. The sun had sunk to
the top of the western hills when the two Crows again crossed the Sioux
trail. Flying Arrow dismounted to study it briefly.
“We are getting close to them,” he gloated. “In a day or two we may be
able to make a raid.”
They traveled until dark. Again Bent Arrow cared for the horses while
his uncle made camp. This time, when Bent Arrow returned to camp, there
was no fire.
“We’ll eat some of the dried meat we brought,” Flying Arrow told him.
“The Sioux have sharp noses. Even the smallest fire might give off
enough smoke to warn them.”
Bent Arrow glanced around quickly as though expecting to find a Sioux
watching from the brush near by.
“They aren’t that close,” Flying Arrow said with a smile. “Probably they
are half a sun’s ride ahead of us.”
Bent Arrow knew that the Sioux would have little chance to surprise
them. Flying Eagle heard every noise, no matter how slight, and he
always knew the meaning of the noise. Nevertheless, he had a feeling of
uneasiness as he crawled into his blankets to sleep. The moment that he
fell asleep, he dreamed that he saw an eagle soaring overhead. In his
dream he followed the eagle, hoping it would drop a feather. He followed
the eagle over hills and across a small stream. At last a feather fell
from the eagle and floated down. As Bent Arrow was running to get the
feather, some sound awakened him.
Although it was still dark, Bent Arrow could see his uncle moving about.
Silently Bent Arrow crawled out of his blankets.
“I’m going to scout ahead on foot,” Flying Arrow explained. “It may be
that I can reach the Sioux camp.”
“Let me go with you,” Bent Arrow urged.
Flying Arrow shook his head.
“As soon as it is light, you water the horses,” he ordered. “If I’m not
back by then, you might hunt near the river for game. We’ll need food.”
After Flying Arrow slipped away into the darkness, Bent Arrow sat on his
robe and waited until the eastern sky gave enough light so he could see.
He took the horses to the river and let them drink. He found a hidden
place where there was plenty of grass for the horses. He returned to the
camping place, rolled up the blankets, and hid them. He took a small
branch from a tree. With this he brushed the ground until there were no
signs of the camp left.
Bent Arrow arranged two sticks to tell his uncle where the horses were
in case the warrior was the first to get back to the camping place. He
went back on the trail he and his uncle had followed the day before.
When he thought that he was far enough from the camping place, he went
toward the river. He hunted along the river until he found the place he
wanted. It was a clump of willows near the river and along a well-worn
trail leading to it.
Bent Arrow had been hidden in the clump of willows only a short time
when he caught the faint sound of something coming down the trail. He
kneeled, waiting tensely as the sound came nearer. His heart was
pounding wildly when a fine buck stepped into view. The deer stopped,
lifted its head, and sniffed suspiciously. Evidently it failed to catch
Bent Arrow’s scent, because it came on toward the river.
Bent Arrow waited until the buck was a step past him before he fired.
The arrow struck the deer just back of the foreleg. The animal crumpled
beside the path. There was a scurrying farther back. Bent Arrow knew
that the sound was made by other deer which had been following the buck.
Their sharp ears had caught the sound, warning them of danger. They were
fleeing back up the trail.
Although he wanted to jump up and run over to look at the first deer he
had ever shot, Bent Arrow remained hidden in the clump of willows. It
was possible that a Sioux warrior would be hunting along the river. As
Bent Arrow waited patiently, he felt more and more uneasy. There was an
unnatural stillness around him. It wasn’t only that there was no
movement along the path, but there was nothing stirring on either side
of the river.
As he waited, still crouched on one knee, the awkward position began to
make his leg hurt. The pain increased rapidly. It hurt below his knee,
where the old injury was, and all the way up his leg. Little beads of
sweat moistened his brow. He had to move. As he tensed himself to shift
his position without touching a twig or making any other sign of
movement, he saw a branch move on the other side of the river.
Bent Arrow almost forgot his pain as his eyes searched the other bank.
Another branch moved slightly. A Sioux warrior crawled out to the river
bank and leaned down to drink. In his excitement, Bent Arrow had
forgotten the pain in his leg. Now it swept over him, and he remembered
that it was Sioux warriors who had injured him and made him different
from other Crow boys. He took careful aim at the unsuspecting warrior
across the stream.
Before he let the arrow fly, Bent Arrow knew it would be a mistake to
shoot. If he missed, or if he injured the warrior, or even if his shot
was successful, the Sioux would be warned. There would be no chance of
Flying Arrow’s plan succeeding. Silently Bent Arrow lowered his bow.
When the Sioux warrior had drunk his fill, he raised his head and
listened. Slowly he got to his feet, and his sharp glance swept up and
down the river. Bent Arrow was thankful that the deer had fallen to one
side of the path where it was hidden from the Sioux’s sight. At last the
Sioux slipped back from the river. For a few paces Bent Arrow could
follow the warrior’s progress by the slight movement of the underbrush.
Soon he could no longer see any sign of movement. He had no way of
knowing whether the Sioux had stopped or whether he was moving more
carefully. There was nothing to do except wait.
The sun had risen and, to Bent Arrow’s anxious eyes, seemed to be racing
up the sky. By this time Flying Arrow would have returned to camp. He
would wait for a time, but when Bent Arrow failed to return, Flying
Arrow would come to look for him.
Finally Bent Arrow decided that he must take the risk. He crept out of
his hiding place and slipped away from the river, keeping near the
trail. When he was far enough back from the stream so that no watcher on
the other side could see him, he crossed the trail and started back
toward the river. He moved carefully. Before he took a step, he glanced
ahead to make sure he could avoid touching any branches. When he came
near the deer, he dropped to his hands and knees. He crawled the
remaining distance.
The deer had fallen in such a way that a clump of brush hid it from the
other side of the river. However, it was so close to the brush that it
seemed impossible for Bent Arrow to move it without stirring the
branches. Carefully he inched the deer away from the brush. He got it
away from the brush without causing the branches to move noticeably. It
was a long, tedious task, dragging the deer and avoiding the brush and
shrubs, but at last Bent Arrow got it to a place well enough hidden that
he could lift it to his shoulders.
Instead of going straight toward the camping place, Bent Arrow went due
north. When he was at a point directly west of the camp, he hung the
deer on a low tree branch. Then he went toward camp.
He had covered about half the distance to the camp, when he caught a
slight movement directly ahead of him. He stopped and slowly brought his
bow into position.
“It’s all right, Bent Arrow,” Flying Arrow called softly, stepping into
view.
Bent Arrow quickly ran to his uncle.
“I have a deer,” he said, “and I saw a Sioux warrior.”
“We’ll get our horses and move farther away before we talk more,” Flying
Arrow decided.
_CHAPTER FIVE_
When they had their horses, the two Crows rode back to the tree where
Bent Arrow had left the deer. Flying Arrow took the deer on his horse.
He led the way back over the trail they had followed the day before. The
sun was starting down the western sky when Flying Arrow turned north off
the trail. After a time he stopped in a small valley. There was a small
stream running through the valley. There were trees to furnish
concealment and fuel.
It wasn’t until the horses had been tended, the deer properly butchered,
and steaks frying over the fire that Flying Arrow had Bent Arrow tell
his story. At the end of the story, Flying Arrow nodded his head in
approval.
“You did well,” he praised.
“Are we going to raid the Sioux camp tonight?” Bent Arrow asked.
“We are,” Flying Arrow assured him. “I was close to their camp before
daylight. Their scouts had found a herd of buffalo across the river.
They are hunting today. Tonight they will gorge themselves on buffalo
meat. They will sleep so soundly that we will be able to take our pick
of their horses. Their chief has two fine ones.”
“Why would that warrior have been at the river alone?” Bent Arrow
wondered.
“Probably he had been sent out to watch the herd,” Flying Arrow
explained. “He was coming back to join the others.”
“I suppose that is the reason,” Bent Arrow agreed.
“Is your leg better?” Flying Arrow asked. “You carried the deer a long
way, and I noticed that you weren’t limping when you came to camp.”
“It is better, although it hurt when I was kneeling in that clump of
willows,” Bent Arrow told him. “I hope I can find an ea—. Look, Uncle.
Look. There’s an eagle soaring above us.”
Flying Arrow’s glance followed Bent Arrow’s pointing finger.
“Yes, that’s an eagle,” he agreed.
“I must follow it,” Bent Arrow exclaimed. “I’m sure that it will drop
the feather I need.”
He told Flying Eagle of his dream. Flying Eagle listened and, at the
end, thoughtfully considered what Bent Arrow had told him.
“Since your dream wasn’t finished, it is difficult to tell what it
means,” Flying Arrow said. “Still, Clawing Bear said that you must have
an eagle feather. It would almost seem that the eagle has been sent here
to bring you a feather. Go carefully.”
Bent Arrow picked up his bow and arrows.
“I’ll go down the river to the forks,” Flying Arrow said. “When you
return, meet me there. We’ll cross the river after dark.”
“I’ll be back before you’re ready to leave,” Bent Arrow answered
confidently. “The eagle isn’t far from us.”
“It’s farther than you think,” Flying Arrow told him. “It is so high in
the sky that the distance deceives you. We’ll plan to meet at the
forks.”
Bent Arrow had not gone far before he realized that his uncle had been
right about how far away the eagle was. The bird seemed to be motionless
in the sky, yet Bent Arrow could not see that the distance had lessened.
Fortunately he did not have to move carefully. If the Sioux were hunting
on the other side of the river, there was no immediate danger from them.
Bent Arrow had started at a fast run. Now be slowed his pace so that he
would not tire so quickly.
As he neared the river, where the trees were close together, Bent Arrow
sometimes lost sight of the eagle. The bird seemed still to be hovering
in one spot, but that spot was ahead. When he came to the river, Bent
Arrow stopped. He was sure that his uncle hadn’t intended for him to
cross the stream. He looked up at the eagle again. It was much closer.
Bent Arrow glanced back the way he had come as though considering going
back to ask permission before he crossed the river. But the afternoon
was far spent. It would take too much time for him to make the trip to
camp and return. If he was to get the eagle feather, he must go now.
He slipped quietly into the river and swam across. On the other shore he
hid himself in a clump of brush. He listened carefully. The only sounds
he heard were made by the movements of wild creatures who lived among
the trees. That was good. He glanced up into the sky. The eagle was
almost straight above his head.
Although he was eager to get directly under the eagle and wait for it to
drop a feather, Bent Arrow didn’t forget caution. He walked carefully
avoiding low-hanging branches and dry twigs which might snap if he
stepped on them.
As he moved ahead, Bent Arrow continually looked up at the eagle. It
wasn’t long until he was directly under the bird. He found a good hiding
place and settled himself to wait for a feather to drop. It was tiring,
waiting and looking up into the sky. Then, to Bent Arrow’s dismay, the
eagle soared south.
[Illustration: _Bent Arrow continually looked up at the eagle_]
Bent Arrow left his hiding place and followed. He was soon far enough
from the river so that there were few trees. It would be difficult to
hide if danger appeared. Suddenly the eagle changed from its easy
soaring to swift flight. Hopelessly Bent Arrow watched it. There was no
use to try to follow. Even the swiftest horse couldn’t keep up with that
fast-flying bird. A moment later, Bent Arrow’s heart gave a great bound.
The eagle had turned and was soaring back toward him.
Although the eagle stopped before it had come all the way back, Bent
Arrow’s hopes returned. He could go that much farther. He hurried
forward. He came to a hill on which no trees were growing. He started up
it swiftly. It looked as though the eagle were almost straight above the
top of the hill. Near the top, Bent Arrow remembered his training. He
dropped to his hands and knees and crawled. At the top he stretched out
to look ahead.
On the other side of the hill was a small valley. There were a few trees
growing in a clump on the valley floor. Bent Arrow saw a sparkle which
he knew was sunshine reflected from a bubbling spring. This valley would
be a fine place for the Sioux to make camp, but there was no sign of
them.
As he lay there, Bent Arrow’s ear caught a rumbling sound carried by the
ground. It took him a moment to realize what caused the noise. It was
the rumble made by a great herd of running buffaloes, and he knew the
Sioux must be near.
Again Bent Arrow looked up into the sky. His heart sank when there was
no sign of the eagle, but the next moment he saw it again. The bird had
soared a short distance toward the river. Now it had turned and was
coming back. Bent Arrow gave a cry of triumph when he saw a feather
floating from the eagle and dropping toward him.
He leaped to his feet. But while the feather was still high in the air,
a breeze caught it and wafted it away from him toward the trees in the
valley. Bent Arrow raced toward it. It looked as though the feather was
going to lodge in the trees, but another gust of air lifted it over
them. As Bent Arrow ran up the hill at the far side of the valley, the
feather was just out of reach above his head. A few more steps and he
would be able to grab it.
Near the top of the hill, the feather was low enough, but it was so far
ahead that Bent Arrow could not quite grasp it. He sprinted forward. The
feather barely cleared the top of the hill. Bent Arrow tensed himself to
dive for it. Instead, he dropped to the ground. In the valley below him
were Sioux warriors butchering the buffaloes that they had killed.
At the moment Bent Arrow saw the Sioux, he also saw the feather lodge
against a weed a few steps ahead of him. He dared not crawl down to it.
At any moment a Sioux warrior might glance up and see him. He had to
crawl back off that hilltop before he was discovered.
Bent Arrow pushed himself back. Each inch that he moved back was
torture. Every movement had to be painstakingly careful or it would
attract attention. A Sioux warrior looked up from his work and glanced
directly at Bent Arrow. Bent Arrow held himself motionless. When the
warrior went back to his work, Bent Arrow resumed his backward crawling.
When he was finally across the hill, he continued to crawl until he
could stand without being seen from the other side. He wanted to run for
the shelter of the trees. Instead he walked. A Sioux warrior might catch
the thud of running feet.
It was all Bent Arrow could do to keep from running. Step by slow step,
he went down the hill and came to the trees. In his mind he had been
thinking of the trees as a hiding place. When he reached them, he knew
he must go on. Undoubtedly the Sioux would select this spot for their
camp. He crossed the valley and climbed the hill at that side,
constantly looking back. At the top of the hill, he took one last
backward glance. The head of a Sioux horse was just coming into sight at
the top of the hill on the other side of the valley. Bent Arrow ducked
down out of sight.
He crawled until the hill hid him from the Sioux. The river looked a
long way ahead, but now he could run. Sioux warriors on their horses
wouldn’t be able to hear the thud of his feet. He sprinted to the
nearest tree before looking back. When he did, there was no sign of the
Sioux. Evidently they were making camp in the small valley on the other
side of the hill.
Not until now had Bent Arrow noticed the throbbing pain in his leg. He
slowed his pace to try to ease it, but it was still hurting badly when
he came to the river.
The sun had gone down before he reached the river, and darkness was
beginning to shadow everything. Bent Arrow slipped into the river and
swam across. Strangely, when he crawled out on the bank, the pain in his
leg was much less. He turned downstream, staying close to the river as
it was lighter there.
“You were gone long,” Flying Arrow said when Bent Arrow joined him at
the forks.
“The eagle was farther away than I thought,” Bent Arrow explained.
“Did you get an eagle feather?” Flying Arrow asked.
“No,” Bent Arrow answered. “I almost ran into the Sioux trying to get
one.”
He gave Flying Arrow an account of his attempts to get the feather and
of his narrow escape from the Sioux. He was surprised to see how
discouraged Flying Arrow became as he told the story.
“It would seem best to postpone our raid,” Flying Arrow said in a voice
of disappointment. “Not getting the feather must be a warning that the
raid would be too dangerous.”
“Perhaps we can get the feather as we go on our raid,” Bent Arrow
suggested. “I can find the spot where it is lodged.”
Flying Arrow hesitated. It was plain to see that he was anxious to make
the raid, yet he didn’t want to take the added risk of going against the
medicine man’s advice.
“You are sure that you can find the eagle feather even in the dark?” he
asked.
“I’m sure,” Bent Arrow answered positively.
“Then we’ll make the raid,” Flying Arrow decided. “If we don’t, the
Sioux will go unpunished.”
Both Bent Arrow and his uncle mounted their horses. They rode across the
river, but a short distance on the other side, they dismounted and tied
the horses. From here on, they must go on foot.
The air had grown much cooler, and dark clouds were shutting off the
little light the stars gave. Yet Flying Arrow walked along as surely as
though it were broad daylight. While Bent Arrow was carefully stepping
in his uncle’s tracks, he was considering the distance yet to go. He had
gone swiftly, and it had taken him a long time to go from the Sioux
camping place to the meeting with his uncle. Would they have time to
walk to the Sioux camp, take horses, and escape before daybreak?
While Bent Arrow was still worrying about the time that it would take to
reach the Sioux camp, Flying Arrow stopped.
“Old-Man-of-the-North is sending his wind at us,” he pointed out. “We
would have to circle the Sioux camp and approach it from the south, even
if we didn’t want to go there to find the eagle feather.”
“What difference will that make?” Bent Arrow demanded, thinking uneasily
of the time they were losing. “The Sioux warriors are not like
buffaloes. They can’t catch our scent.”
“Their horses can,” Flying Arrow explained. “With a storm coming, the
horses will be restless and uneasy. If they catch a strange scent, they
may make enough disturbance to rouse the Sioux camp.”
“I should have thought of that,” Bent Arrow acknowledged.
“It is well to ask questions,” Flying Arrow assured him. “A boy
remembers better when he knows why a thing is done.”
Flying Arrow started on. Now they went straight south with the wind at
their backs. They were on open ground away from trees, so they could go
rapidly. After a time, Flying Arrow turned west. He led the way into a
great wide valley. Soon Bent Arrow saw places where buffaloes had been
slaughtered, and he knew that they were in the valley where he had seen
the Sioux. The Sioux must be camped by the spring across the hills to
the north. In the middle of the valley, Flying Arrow turned north and
led the way up the dividing hills. Old-Man-of-the-North’s wind was
carrying the odor of smoke and cooked meat. There was no doubt but that
the Sioux were camped just ahead.
Near the top of the hill, Flying Arrow got to his hands and knees. Bent
Arrow followed his example.
“Are we near the eagle feather?” Flying Arrow asked in a whisper.
“It’s nearer the top of the hill and to our right,” Bent Arrow answered.
The two of them crawled forward and then to the right. Carefully they
searched every clump of weeds, but they couldn’t find the feather.
“We can delay no longer,” Flying Arrow whispered. “Perhaps we must
punish the Sioux to earn such valuable medicine as the eagle feather.”
He stretched out prone and wriggled toward the top of the hill. Bent
Arrow followed his uncle’s example. At the top of the hill they could
look down into the Sioux camp. There were no Sioux warriors stirring
about, although the campfire glowed brightly.
The Sioux camp had been pitched near the trees. The horses were grazing
between the top of the hill and the sleeping warriors. The glow of the
campfire gave enough light to make it easier for the raiders to pick the
horses they wanted. At the same time, the horses would hide Flying Arrow
and his nephew from any watchers in the camp.
Bent Arrow waited as patiently as he could while his uncle studied the
camp. At last Flying Arrow nodded confidently.
“We’ll crawl to the herd and pick the two horses that I saw this
morning,” he said.
“It will be easy,” Bent Arrow answered.
“Often the raid which looks easy is the most dangerous,” Flying Arrow
warned. “Follow me. I’ll point out the horse you are to take.”
_CHAPTER SIX_
Bent Arrow smiled happily as he started to crawl behind his uncle toward
the Sioux horses. He had been afraid that at the last moment his uncle
would think it too dangerous for him. Evidently Flying Arrow was
convinced that the Sioux had stuffed themselves with fresh meat and
would sleep soundly. The fact that there were no guards near the horses
showed that the Sioux were confident that they were safely hidden.
Bent Arrow thought proudly how well his uncle had planned this raid. The
Sioux had gorged themselves. They would sleep soundly. Only a clumsy,
awkward raider would make enough noise to arouse them. Bent Arrow’s
first uneasiness came when Flying Arrow passed the horses farthest from
the sleeping warriors and continued to crawl nearer the camp.
The second horse which the two Crows passed snorted loudly and pranced
aside. For a moment it looked as though the whole herd would stampede.
When the horse had started to move, Flying Arrow had stretched out on
the ground. Bent Arrow quickly followed his example. Both of them lay
motionless until the horse quieted and again started grazing.
Flying Arrow waited until he was sure that no warrior had been roused by
the noise. At last he started ahead.
By the time he and his uncle had passed half the horses in the herd,
Bent Arrow’s uneasiness was becoming real alarm. The glow of the
campfires had seemed faint when he watched them from the top of the
hill. Here, close to the Sioux camp, the light seemed bright. If a Sioux
warrior opened his eyes and looked, he could scarcely fail to see the
raiders. Flying Arrow continued to crawl toward those fires. At last he
halted. He touched Bent Arrow’s arm and pointed to the next horse.
“That is the horse you are to get,” he whispered, so low that his voice
was hardly louder than the wind rustling through the dry grass.
Bent Arrow turned and crawled toward the horse. When he had crawled far
enough so that the horse was between him and the fire, he slowly got to
his feet. The horse took an uneasy step away. Bent Arrow waited
patiently until the horse lowered its head to nibble at the grass before
he moved toward it. The horse tossed its head and moved ahead several
steps.
Bent Arrow stood and helplessly watched the horse. A shower of sparks
flew up at one of the campfires as a log burned apart. One end of the
log blazed up, throwing light which would have shown Bent Arrow to any
warrior awake in the camp. Bent Arrow felt the icy finger of fear along
his spine. He wanted to turn and run for the top of the hill. Somehow he
managed to fight down his panic.
A new plan occurred to him. As quickly as he dared, he stepped beside
another horse. Luckily this horse stood quietly while Bent Arrow walked
along its side and reached its head. With the pressure of his hand
against the horse’s neck, Bent Arrow guided it toward the horse he
wanted. When he had this horse beside the other one, he let it stop. He
slowly walked around the horse and went to the side of the one he had
been following. This time the horse stood quietly while Bent Arrow put a
rope around its neck.