Little Bear was up before daylight the next morning. He built up the
fire and, as soon as he saw Great Bear stirring, set off to get their
horses. When he returned with them, Grandfather had food cooked.
“You are eager to start.” Grandfather smiled.
“I want to get back to the tribe.” Little Bear nodded.
Great Bear’s guess that Old-Man-of-the-North would send another snow
before the main Sioux camp was reached was surely wrong. The sun climbed
out of the east into a cloudless sky. Little Bear helped his grandfather
pack the meat on the horses they had captured from the Pawnees and on
the two Crow ponies. He wondered why Grandfather didn’t put some of the
meat on the Sioux ponies, but Great Bear offered no explanation.
Each of them mounted the same horse he had ridden when the two of them
left the Sioux hunting party. Little Bear knew this was done to call
attention to the horses they had captured.
At times it seemed to Little Bear they were scarcely moving. Yet he knew
they were going faster than on any other day since they had started
towards the winter camp. There was little snow on the ground and no deep
drifts. The horses seemed to sense the long journey was almost done.
They pushed ahead rapidly with little urging.
Each time Little Bear looked at the string of horses, he wondered again
why Great Bear hadn’t loaded any of the Sioux horses. Surely Grandfather
didn’t intend to give the horses back to their former owners.
“You told me,” Little Bear began when they were stopped at noon, “that
stolen Sioux horses not recaptured within three days belong to whoever
takes them after that time.”
Great Bear glanced towards the string of horses.
“That is right.” He nodded.
“Then all of these horses belong to us,” Little Bear insisted.
“They do.” Great Bear nodded again. “However, when hunters or warriors
return from a successful raid, they should give presents to the poor and
to their friends.”
“We should give half of our meat to Lone Eagle’s widow and her
children,” Little Bear suggested.
“That will be good.” Grandfather smiled. “Half of it is a generous gift.
I am proud that you are generous.”
They were silent for some time. Little Bear had the odd feeling that
Grandfather was not quite pleased with him. Grandfather had said that he
was proud, but something was lacking.
“And our friends?” Grandfather asked after a time.
Little Bear looked towards the horses. He turned his eyes towards
Grandfather, but the old warrior was looking off to the west.
“We must bring our friends some presents,” Little Bear agreed. “Do—do
you think we should give the horses back to the men they were stolen
from?”
“By Sioux law the horses are ours.” Great Bear spoke gravely. “This has
been your first raid. You have played a warrior’s part. Now you must
make a warrior’s decision. Whatever you decide we should do with the
horses, we will do.”
While they were still some distance from the camp, Little Bear decided
about the horses. The gift of half of the meat to the widow and her
children was far more generous than anyone would expect. He and
Grandfather could make presents for their friends. Flying Arrow might
demand two horses for the roan colt or even three. Little Bear was
determined the only horses with which he would part were the ones Flying
Arrow would demand for the roan colt.
Long before Grandfather and Little Bear came within sight of the main
Sioux camp, they could hear the dogs barking. Little Bear knew scouts
would see Grandfather and him. There would be a delegation of warriors
riding out to meet them. Great Bear wanted his grandson to ride ahead,
but Little Bear refused.
“You are the leader,” Little Bear insisted. “You must lead into camp.”
As they rode around a high cliff and came in sight of the Sioux camp
spread over a great valley, they saw a party of horsemen riding to meet
them. Great Bear raised his voice in the victory chant, and Little Bear
joined him.
The warriors circled the string of horses, gazing admiringly at them.
Flying Arrow’s face lighted up when he saw the two horses he had lost.
Little Bear heard the warriors praise Great Bear for his victory. It was
strange that Grandfather didn’t tell the warriors Little Bear had helped
win the victory. After the warriors had circled the captured horses
several times, they formed a line on each side. Little Bear thrilled
with pride as he and Grandfather were escorted into camp.
Before the party reached the first tepee, every boy in camp was
following. Great Bear rode directly to the lodge of Lone Eagle’s widow.
He stayed on his horse and waited. Little Bear ran forward and started
unloading meat. There were exclamations of approval when he left half of
the meat at the widow’s lodge. The procession moved on to Great Bear’s
lodge. Here the rest of the meat was unloaded.
“I’ll take the horses to the corral, Grandfather,” Little Bear offered.
Grandfather hesitated. He seemed about to say something, but changed his
mind. He nodded and turned away.
Little Bear declined the offers of help from the boys surrounding the
horses. He rode slowly towards the corral. When he was near it, he
hesitated for some time. Finally he made up his mind. He jumped from his
horse, tied the halter rope up, and turned the horse into the corral. He
did the same with Great Bear’s horse, the two that had belonged to the
Crow and the four they had captured from the Pawnees. When he came to
the Sioux horses he and Grandfather had taken from the Crow, he removed
the halter from each before he put it in the corral. He carried the
halters back to Great Bear’s tepee.
When Little Bear entered the tepee, Great Bear was gone.
“The warriors have called him to the council to tell of our adventure,”
Little Bear thought to himself.
He stretched out on the buffalo robes to rest. His head had hardly
touched the soft fur when a young warrior stuck his head inside the
tepee.
“You are wanted at the council tent,” the warrior announced.
Little Bear scrambled excitedly to his feet. This was indeed a great
honor. He wrapped a bright blanket around his shoulders and picked up
the halters. He hid the halters under the blanket so that no one could
see them.
At the council wigwam, the young warrior held the flap aside and
politely waited for Little Bear to enter. Little Bear’s heart skipped a
beat when Rain-Maker waved him to a place of honor beside Great Bear in
the council circle.
There was a brief silence as Little Bear settled down beside his
grandfather. At a signal from Rain-Maker, Great Bear got to his feet.
“It was a good raiding party.” Great Bear spoke slowly. “It is unseemly
for a grandfather to boast of his grandson, yet often, when I would have
turned back, like a true Sioux, Little Bear urged me to go on. Much of
what we have done, we have done because he wouldn’t give up. He
suggested the generous present for the widow. He will tell you of
presents we plan for our friends.”
[Illustration]
Great Bear sat down. Every eye in the council wigwam turned on Little
Bear. He was frightened, but not too frightened to wonder how
Grandfather had guessed about the presents. Grandfather would not have
mentioned presents unless he was sure Little Bear had some for their
friends. Then he understood. It was what Grandfather thought right.
Great Bear had been so sure Little Bear would see and do the right thing
that he had announced the presents without waiting to hear Little Bear’s
plans.
Slowly Little Bear got to his feet. His eyes searched out the hunters
who had lost horses to the Crow. To each of these he handed a halter.
“This is the halter of the horse a Crow stole from you,” he said to each
warrior, as he held out a halter. “Your friends, Great Bear and I, are
returning your horses to you.”
Flying Arrow was last. To him Little Bear handed two halters. There was
a chorus of approval from the council as Little Bear sat down beside his
grandfather. When Grandfather smiled proudly at him, Little Bear forgot
he didn’t have any horses left that were good enough to trade for the
roan colt.
Flying Arrow jumped to his feet.
“In many ways Little Bear has proved himself a warrior,” Flying Arrow
said. “Twice he has done me a great service. I have a roan colt which I
want to have belong to a good warrior. Since Little Bear has proved we
are friends, he cannot refuse my gift.”
With all the warriors watching, Flying Arrow stepped in front of Little
Bear. He drew a halter from under his blanket and held it towards Little
Bear.
“My friend,” he said, “your roan colt is in the corral. You will train
him to be the good horse of a good Sioux warrior.”
Little Bear hung his head. No one must see his eyes. He knew those tears
stinging the backs of his eyelids were not warriorlike, but he was so
happy he couldn’t stop them. He had been called a warrior and the roan
colt was his!