Little Bear sat far back in the great wigwam. The warriors formed a
circle around the council fire in front of him. Little Bear had listened
to the long debate wishing he dared speak. Plainly two of the older
warriors wanted this small hunting party to return to the main Sioux
camp. He bent forward to listen as Big Buffalo, one of those two
warriors, stood up to speak.
“It is foolish to stay longer.” Big Buffalo spoke slowly. “The Pawnees
have driven the buffalo from our hunting grounds. Next they will attack
this small party.”
The moment Big Buffalo sat down, Flying Arrow leaped to his feet.
“Let’s drive the Pawnees out,” he roared.
Little Bear had to clap his hands over his mouth to keep from shouting
his approval. With deep disappointment he saw the heads around the
circle shake in disagreement. Even the young warriors, whom he would
have expected to approve Flying Arrow’s words, shook their heads. Little
Bear’s eyes lighted with hope when he saw his grandfather, Great Bear,
get to his feet.
“The Pawnees on the other side of the river are many,” Great Bear
pointed out. “We are too few to attack them. We could send to the main
camp for more warriors, but that would take long. Yet, if we are alert,
we can get meat to take back to the main camp.”
When Great Bear sat down, Rain-Maker got to his feet.
“Great Bear spoke words of wisdom,” Rain-Maker agreed. “We can hunt
buffalo on our way back to the main camp. We may get much meat.”
Little Bear looked expectantly at his grandfather. He knew this wasn’t
the plan Great Bear had in his mind. The old warrior would never suggest
they should run from the Pawnees. Little Bear expected Grandfather to
jump up and angrily deny that this was his plan. But Grandfather made no
move to get to his feet. Instead, he waited to give others a chance to
speak.
“He meant we’d hunt buffalo here and not run from the Pawnees.” Little
Bear was frightened when he realized he had spoken aloud.
He drew his blanket over his head and huddled down to make himself as
small as possible. He wanted to stand up and dash out of the wigwam, but
that would be still worse. A Sioux boy must wait and follow the
warriors. He held himself quiet. He had spoken, in the warriors’ council
without permission. He must stay and take his punishment.
“The small one with the big mouth has spoken truly.” Flying Arrow had
stood and was talking. “Great Bear would not counsel us to run from the
Pawnees.”
Little Bear hung his head in shame. He had been called “the small one
with the big mouth.” He knew he deserved the name. It would not have
seemed quite so bad if someone other than Flying Arrow had given it to
him.
Nevertheless from then on, the discussion changed. There was no more
talk of starting back to the main camp without meat. The warriors agreed
the Pawnees were not likely to attack while the Sioux were on their own
hunting grounds. They decided they would stay and hunt buffalo. When
they had enough meat, they would start for the main camp. Even though
they were sure the Pawnees would not attack, they decided they would
have outriders, scouts, and sentinels on every hunting trip.
When the council was over, Great Bear was among the first to leave the
council wigwam. Little Bear waited until every warrior had stepped
through the flap before he left. As soon as he was out of the wigwam, he
hurried to catch Grandfather. His hope that Grandfather would let him go
with the warriors on tomorrow’s hunting trip made him forget he would be
scolded for speaking in the council.
Great Bear reached his tepee before Little Bear caught up with him. The
old warrior went into the tepee without stopping. Little Bear knew his
grandfather would want to make medicine before tomorrow’s hunt. There
was nothing he could do except wait outside until Grandfather came out.
Time dragged slowly. It seemed to Little Bear the sun had stopped in the
western sky and wasn’t trying to sink to rest in the west. At last there
was a faint rustle at the flap of the tepee. Little Bear looked up to
see Great Bear step outside. For some time Great Bear stood looking
silently at him.
“You spoke in the council today,” Great Bear said sternly. “It was a
great honor to a boy to be allowed to enter the council tent with the
warriors. Speaking without permission was poor repayment of an honor.”
“I know, Grandfather.” Little Bear spoke hesitantly with his eyes upon
the ground. “I am ashamed.”
“You earned a new name. One which will be hard to live down.”
There was a hint of a smile in the old warrior’s eyes.
“I am ashamed,” Little Bear repeated.
Without another word Grandfather turned and reached inside the tepee. He
straightened up with a bow in his hand.
“Tomorrow you will be twelve summers,” Great Bear told him. “It is time
you learned to use a good Sioux bow. I made this for you.”
Little Bear took the bow Grandfather held out to him. He tried to find
words to thank his grandfather, but there was a lump in his throat. For
a terrible moment he thought he was going to cry. Any warrior in the
Sioux camp would be proud to own a bow Great Bear had made. He held the
bow towards his grandfather.
[Illustration: _He tried to find words to thank his grandfather_]
“Keep it, Grandfather,” he said slowly, “until I earn the right to have
it.”
“Nonsense.” Great Bear spoke sharply. “Even Sioux warriors make
mistakes. The bow is yours. Tomorrow we shall have a lesson in its use.”
“Thank you, Grandfather.” Little Bear smiled happily. Then he understood
the meaning of Grandfather’s words. “Tomorrow we shall have a lesson?
Aren’t we going with the hunting party?”
“No.” Great Bear shook his head. “The Great Spirit warned me I should
stay in camp. You and I and the two old ones will stay while the others
hunt.”
The next morning Little Bear was up early. He carried his new bow as he
went to watch the hunting party leave camp. By the time the hunters had
ridden out of sight, Little Bear was feeling less disappointed.
Grandfather was going to give him lessons in the use of the bow. That
would be almost as good as the excitement of a buffalo hunt.
“First you and I will scout to the river to see if any Pawnees are
near,” Great Bear told him.
Grandfather took two arrows from his quiver and handed them to Little
Bear. As he followed his grandfather out of camp, Little Bear felt he
was almost a warrior. As soon as they were out of camp, Great Bear moved
as carefully as he could. At each step he made sure he didn’t tread on a
stick that might snap under his foot. Little Bear followed carefully
behind him, stepping in Grandfather’s tracks. Instead of following the
most direct route to the river, Great Bear took advantage of all cover.
When they were near the river, Great Bear got to his hands and knees and
then stretched out on his stomach. Little Bear needed no signal to
follow his example. They inched forward until they were near the river’s
bank. Here they lay silently watching the opposite bank for any sign of
their enemies. A big ant crawled across Little Bear’s shoulders, but he
made no move to brush it off. Slowly the sun climbed high in the sky,
and yet Great Bear continued to watch. Finally he began to edge back
from the river bank. They crawled back many paces before Great Bear got
to his feet.
“The Pawnees must have moved upstream,” he decided.
Little Bear thought of the Sioux hunting party riding upstream on their
own side of the river.
“Shouldn’t we warn our hunters?” he asked.
“If they have scouts ahead and a sentinel behind as we agreed,”
Grandfather explained, “they can’t be surprised.”
When they were well back from the river, Great Bear stopped. He took
Little Bear’s bow and aimed an arrow at a sapling about twenty paces
away. Little Bear watched closely. Great Bear pulled the bow string back
and let the arrow fly. There was a sharp thud as the arrow struck. It
split the sapling in two. Grandfather handed the bow to Little Bear.
“Put an arrow in that sapling next to the one I hit,” he directed.
The other sapling was larger than the one Great Bear had hit. Little
Bear had used a bow and arrow before. He had owned a small bow as long
as he could remember. This large bow was better made than his small one
and would shoot much straighter. He fitted an arrow to the string and
aimed just as Grandfather had done. He fired for the sapling. The arrow
whizzed past it.
“I missed,” he exclaimed disappointedly.
“That was close,” Grandfather encouraged him. “Let’s get the arrows and
you can try again.”
It took some time to find the arrow Little Bear had shot. When they did
find it, he started practicing again. Grandfather watched him and showed
him better ways of holding the bow and taking aim. Although few of
Little Bear’s arrows hit the sapling, most of them came close.
“Practice every time you have a chance,” Great Bear advised. “You are
doing very well.”
The sun was almost straight overhead when they returned to camp. Little
Bear wondered at Grandfather’s restlessness. Plainly he was worried
about something. As soon as he had eaten, Little Bear started towards
the meadow to see about their horses. The warriors had been sure no
Pawnee would dare try to steal horses so near a Sioux camp and they had
left no guards. Little Bear was sure the warriors were right, but he
knew Grandfather would expect him to look anyway.
He climbed the low hill to the north of the camp. From the top of it he
could look down into the small valley where the horses were grazing. He
gave a little gasp of dismay. Great Bear’s best horse wasn’t with the
rest of the herd. Little Bear felt a tremendous relief when a group of
horses, standing close together, moved apart and he saw Great Bear’s
horse was there after all. Next he turned his attention to a roan colt
owned by Flying Arrow. The colt was not yet two summers old, but he was
almost large enough to begin his training. Little Bear wanted to own
that colt. It was going to grow into a fine horse, but Flying Arrow
prized it highly, too. He would want a tremendous price for it.
“I’m going to find a way to own that horse,” Little Bear promised
himself.
He turned back towards the camp. When he came within sight of their
tepee, he saw that Grandfather was waiting for him. He increased his
speed.
“The horses are all right, Grandfather,” he reported.
“Good.” Grandfather nodded. “I am glad you went to look at them without
waiting to be told. A good warrior looks after his horse.”
Little Bear glowed with pleasure. Grandfather was quick to scold when he
did wrong, but he was equally quick to praise when Little Bear did well.
Great Bear went into the tepee to rest. Little Bear sat outside to wait.
He would have liked to take his bow and go hunting. However, Grandfather
hadn’t told him to go. Perhaps it would be better to wait until Great
Bear was ready to go with him.
[Illustration]
He had sat in front of the tepee for some time when he became aware of a
faint drumming sound. He listened carefully. The sound was too faint for
him to be sure, but it did seem to be that of a horse ridden at full
gallop. He stepped away from the tepee in order to hear better. Now the
sound was quite plain.
Little Bear had heard no sound from the tepee, but there was Grandfather
standing beside him. They had stood together for only a few breaths when
the rider raced into view.
“It’s Flying Antelope,” Great Bear exclaimed.
It was Flying Antelope, one of the hunters, charging into camp as though
the whole Pawnee nation were chasing him. The other two warriors who had
stayed in camp came hurrying towards them as Flying Antelope pulled his
horse to a sliding stop.
“The Pawnees have our hunting party cornered in Buffalo Trap Canyon,”
Flying Antelope gasped. “I must ride to the main camp for help.”
“It is a long journey,” Great Bear protested. “Help will be too late.”
“It is my only chance,” Flying Antelope insisted.
Great Bear looked at the other two warriors. They shook their heads.
They had no other plan to offer.
“Then you must have a fresh horse,” Great Bear decided. “Little Bear,
bring one of my horses for Flying Antelope.”
Almost before Great Bear had finished speaking, Little Bear was racing
up the hill towards the meadow where the horses were grazing. As soon as
he crossed the hill, he slowed to a walk. He didn’t want to startle the
horses. He gave a low, shrill whistle. His own horse raised its head.
When Little Bear repeated the whistle, the horse started towards him. He
noticed that Flying Arrow’s roan colt took a few steps towards him, and
he thought how easily the colt could be trained.
In a moment Little Bear had mounted his own horse. It took him only a
short time to catch one of Grandfather’s horses. Then, sure that Great
Bear would want a horse for his own use, he caught another one.
As soon as Little Bear returned to camp, Flying Antelope mounted one of
the horses and sped out of camp.
“He will be too late,” Great Bear said, shaking his head.