The Blackfoot tribe was on the move. The buffalo had begun to search for
new pasture. So the tribe had packed all its tepees on the travois and
were moving to follow the herd. Their lives depended upon these prairie
beasts, and they did not dare to be too far from them. For two days the
herd moved until it found enough grass and water, and then it milled
around and started to graze. How long or how short a time they would
stay in this new place, no one knew; but here the tribe must make its
camp until the buffalo forced them to move again.
As soon as his family’s tepee was set up, Little Thunderbird wandered
off in search of some excitement. He was a Blackfoot lad who seemed to
be able to get into trouble no matter where he was—like the day he cut
the string on his father’s bow, or the day he burned a hole in his
mother’s new dress. These are only samples of the kinds of mischief
Thunderbird got himself into. So today he planned to stay far from his
home until mealtime and in that way keep out of trouble.
Skipping through the village, he saw some of his friends throwing stones
to see who could throw the farthest, and he ran up to them to ask if he
could play. His friends told him to get in line and wait his turn. Soon
he was throwing stones along with the other children. After they had
played this game for a while, the children decided to play Follow the
Leader. There was a great deal of talk about who would be leader for the
game. Finally, one of the older boys was chosen, and he led off by
dodging through a rack of drying buffalo meat.
After everyone had run through the rack, the leader headed for the
strings of ponies which were picketed out on the edge of the village.
Here he ducked under the lines of many ponies that reared and whinnied
from fright as the shouting youths leaped past them one after another.
This kept on until one of the braves who was guarding the ponies chased
the boys back into the village. The leader ran over boulders, danced
between tepees, and did many other stunts which each boy repeated until
finally the leader sat down, tired out. All the other boys admitted they
were tired, too, and the group sat around talking about their fathers’
great deeds.
Soon it was Little Thunderbird’s turn and he stood and walked to the
center of the circle, the way the big braves did in council. Then he
raised his hands for silence from the group.
“My father is the greatest of Blackfoot warriors,” Thunderbird began.
“One day, while he was out on a hunt with some other braves of the
tribe, he spotted a mountain lion. They were high in the hills and they
had been looking for some ponies that had strayed from the herd. When my
father saw the mountain lion, he spoke with the other braves and they
decided to kill the beast. As you know, the mountain lion preys upon our
pony herds. By killing this one, that would be one less lion to worry
about. My father looked around the circle of braves and asked who would
go with him to kill the lion. The braves talked a great deal and at last
two of them stepped forward and said that they would go.
“Slowly the three men began the climb into the hills. The lion had seen
them coming and headed for higher ground. But finally he came to a solid
wall and could climb no farther. My father stepped forward and drew his
bow and shot an arrow toward the lion. He missed and the lion started
toward him, snarling. The other braves turned and ran for their lives.
There was no time to shoot another arrow, so my father drew his knife
and waited for the lion’s charge.
“The beast leaped, and my father caught the lion on his knife. Again and
again, he plunged the knife into the lion. The fight ended quickly. The
lion lay dead at my father’s feet. My father had not even been
scratched. Dancing around his victim, my father cut the lion’s tail off
and placed it in his pouch. Then he caught up with the other braves
farther down the trail, and they continued on the hunt for the ponies.
“After they found the ponies and brought them back to the village, my
father told the council of his brave fight and held the tail of the lion
on high for all to see. For his courage, he was allowed to wear another
feather in his headdress. Now he is really a brave worthy of honor from
all. But the two who deserted him were cowards and do not deserve to be
members of our tribe.”
When Little Thunderbird had finished, he seated himself in the circle
once again. He was proud of the way the other boys listened to his story
and the way they talked of his father as a great brave. Little
Thunderbird enjoyed the attention he was getting, but in his heart he
was troubled. He had made up the whole story. There was no truth at all
in it. Then the test came.
“Take us to see the lion’s tail, Little Thunderbird,” one of the boys
said. “We want to see the lion’s tail.” And the rest of the boys took up
the cry.
Now what was Little Thunderbird to do? But he decided to bluff it out
anyway. He led the boys to his father’s tepee. When they got there, he
searched hurriedly for something that looked like a lion’s tail. But he
could not find anything. The boys began to get angry.
“You lied to us, Little Thunderbird,” one of them said. “Your father
never killed a lion, and he is not the greatest brave in the tribe!”
The other boys agreed. They ran out, leaving Little Thunderbird standing
at the entrance to his father’s tepee. Suddenly, Little Thunderbird felt
very much alone. In the next few days, he began to feel even more lonely
because the other boys would not play with him or speak to him. This
went on, until one day Little Thunderbird refused to leave the tepee.
His mother asked him if he felt sick, and he told her he was “just a
little tired.” But Little Thunderbird’s mother knew that something must
be wrong and so she talked with her husband about it.
“I know what is wrong, my dear wife. My friends have told me of Little
Thunderbird’s tale to the other boys one day about the brave deed of his
father, the greatest warrior the Blackfoot have ever known. When they
asked Little Thunderbird to prove the story, he could not. He had lied
to his friends and his conscience is punishing him.”
“But can’t you help him?” the boy’s mother pleaded.
“There is nothing I can do. Many moons ago I taught my son the strength
of truth. He does not have to lie now. If he is not proud of his father,
let him say so. I am not ashamed that I have not done something great
and have not done something very brave. I have done no more and no less
than most of the braves of the tribe. Surely I am not the greatest
warrior in the tribe, and I have never given Little Thunderbird any
reason to say that I am. The boys will not make fun of him if he tells
the truth. They know that their fathers are like me. The boys will
probably praise him if he admits that he lied.”
Little Thunderbird lay just inside the tepee and had heard his father
speaking with his mother. Rising from his bed, he ran out of the tepee
and headed through the village to find his friends. His parents
understood and did not try to call him back. Finally, he found them,
once again seated in a council circle like the men of the tribe. When
they saw him coming, the tallest arose from his place and stopped Little
Thunderbird before he could reach the circle.
“What is it you want here, teller of lies?” he asked angrily. “We do not
want you for a friend. Go from this place. There is none here that you
could call a friend.”
“Wait, let me speak,” Little Thunderbird begged. “I have something
important to say and I want to be heard.”
“All right, speak,” the tall lad said, “but be brief—and none of your
lies!”
Little Thunderbird stepped to the center of the circle. He was about to
raise his arms for silence as he had done before, but he thought better
of it and waited until the boys were quiet once again.
“The last time I stood before you I told you of my father’s brave deed
in fighting a mountain lion.” The boys began to laugh, but Little
Thunderbird went on. “I lied to you. My father is a brave man but he has
never had to fight a mountain lion. My father taught me to tell the
truth when I was very young. He trusted that I would, and I have broken
that trust. But I have learned my lesson. Lies can bring nothing but
hurt to the liar and to all who trust him. If we speak with a straight
tongue, our friends will believe in us and trust us. I ask you now to
trust me. I will never lie again. Your friendship means too much to me.”
The tall boy rose from the circle. The other boys watched him closely to
see what he would do. Everyone was very quiet.
“Here truly is a brave Blackfoot,” the tall boy said. “It took real
courage for Little Thunderbird to come before this council and admit he
was wrong.” He paused and looked at Little Thunderbird. “I offer you my
hand in friendship once again. Come, take your place in the council.”
Little Thunderbird smiled and took his place. A short distance from the
circle, a tall brave smiled, too. Little Thunderbird’s father had been
sure to speak loudly so that his voice would be heard by the young boy
inside the tepee.
Based on an idea from a story told to the author by Mr. Walter
Elliott.