Long Bow for many moons had been the champion of the canoe racers in the
Ottawa village and had accepted every challenge that had ever come his
way.
From the time he was a young boy he had spent many hours upon the waters
of the great lake practicing his canoeing until he felt there wasn’t
another boy in the tribe that could come at all close to beating him in
a fair race.
Soon the great hunt was upon them, and the warriors gathered their
weapons and headed north to hunt the elusive deer. Whenever they went
off on these hunts Black Rock, a short husky young warrior, always could
be seen as the constant companion of Long Bow.
As the hunting party trotted along the woodland trail getting farther
and farther from the village, Black Rock and Long Bow would hold
conversation in sentences with very few words.
“I think we will have a good hunt, Long Bow.”
“Yes, Black Rock, for the signs of deer in this area are many.”
“We have had a good year, and if the gods bless us we will have another
good year.”
“Soon the winter will be upon us and we must wait a long time for the
spring.”
“Long Bow, you speak of the winter when here it is just late spring.”
“It will be a long summer for me.”
“Why so, friend Long Bow?”
“It used to be that during the summer when we held our games and
contests there would be excitement and thrills.”
“Are there still not excitement and thrills for you?”
“Black Rock, my friend, I have become so skilled that there are none
left in our tribe who give me any competition.”
“That is not a wise way to talk, Long Bow. One must never set himself
above all others; that can be said only by the council.”
As they continued along the trail, Black Rock said no more to his
friend, and Long Bow did not seem concerned that his friend offered no
more conversation.
Soon they both forgot about the talk, for the hunting party had begun to
split up in search of the game. For the next few hours the party made
many fine shots and then it was time to return to the village.
Each of the two braves had a fine buck strung upon a pole between them
as they walked easily along the trail homeward. Once again Black Rock
and Long Bow were a team.
Now the excitement of the hunt was over and the catch was good, and all
the braves were feeling very good about their success. And so as a
result there was much talk and laughing and joking about the misses and
successful shots. Long Bow noticed that Black Rock was especially quiet
as they walked along the trail.
“Black Rock, my friend, what makes your tongue so still? You have made a
fine kill this day and there will be much fresh meat for the village,
yet you walk with a heavy step and your voice is still.”
“I am silent for a good reason, Long Bow my friend, for I fear that if I
speak my heart will speak rather than my lips.”
Long Bow said nothing for a long while, trying to figure out what Black
Rock meant by such a statement. Finally the leader of the hunt called a
halt and the warriors placed their heavy burdens upon the ground and
seated themselves under the shade trees to rest and drink of the water
pouches before the journey homeward.
As Black Rock and Long Bow sat beneath a tree, Long Bow chanced a
question of his friend.
“What did you mean, friend Black Rock, that your heart would speak
rather than your lips?”
“As we approached the hunting grounds, my friend, you said that your
summer would not be enjoyable because there was no competition for you.
Would the fact that you are among your people not give you joy enough?
Must there always be competition or contests to make your blood run
fast?”
“Black Rock, you are one who can be contented with every-day living in
our village. I cannot, and the yearly games and contests I have always
looked forward to with great anticipation; but for the past three years
there has been no competition among the braves, especially in the king
of contests, the canoe race. Eagerly the young braves have met me on the
lake, but I am so skilled that no one has been able to come even close
to winning in the canoe race.”
“This is not a good way to feel, friend Long Bow, so I guess it is time
that someone told you so. I, Black Rock, will challenge you upon the
lake and then we shall see if there is no competition left in the
village.”
Now Long Bow had never raced against his friend Black Rock, for Black
Rock had never entered the canoe race, leaving the glory to his friend
Long Bow. He also knew that Black Rock was considered a good man in a
canoe but not good enough to defeat the great Long Bow.
“Then this is a challenge, friend Black Rock?”
“Yes, Long Bow, when the moon is full, on the following dawn we shall
man our canoes on the great blue water. We shall race and see who best
handles the canoe.”
Long Bow laughed. “Oh, Black Rock, are you serious? Do you really think
that you can beat your friend Long Bow in a canoe race?”
“I do not know, Long Bow, but someone has to try.”
The leader called, and the men picked up their burdens and continued on
their way home.
In the days that followed, whenever Long Bow had no work to do he could
be found out on the lake paddling up and down the shore line practicing
hard for the coming event. Black Rock on the other hand very rarely
would be seen in a canoe unless he were fishing or trapping.
Word had spread swiftly through the village about the canoe race, and
the excitement was growing as each night the moon appeared more full.
Finally the moon was full and that night there was a great celebration
in the camp in preparation for the big event.
Many of the braves were making wagers as to who would win, and there
even were some hot words; but the men realized that this was to be a
friendly challenge. Suddenly one of the braves realized that Black Rock
was nowhere to be seen. This was unheard of the night before a great
contest and they looked high and low but could find no trace of him.
Finally one of the men thought to ask his wife who had been sitting
quietly off to one side.
“He has taken a walk before retiring. He said that he wished to be alone
this night.”
Black Rock was alone. He had walked to a small glen a short way from the
camp, and there if one had come he would have seen a young warrior
kneeling talking to someone although no other person could be seen.
“O, Great Manitou, who guides the lives of all red men, give me strength
tomorrow to wield a strong and sure paddle. Carry my canoe swiftly
across the waters and on to victory. Not for the glory that it will
bring me but to wipe from the heart of my friend Long Bow his feeling
that he is above the other men of the tribe. If he can be made to see
right again, as a good Ottawa brave should, this is all that I ask.”
When he had finished Black Rock rose and returned to his home. The
celebrating was still going on, but quietly Black Rock said good-night
to his wife and wrapped himself in his blanket and was soon asleep. He
had been troubled, but his walk and his prayer had eased his mind, for
now he knew that it rested with the great spirits.
The following day dawned bright and clear, and before the sun had risen
very far in the heavens the lake shore was crowded with eager spectators
waiting for the start of the race.
The rules were outlined to the two warriors and then each took his
position along the shore, standing in their respective canoes. About a
mile down the shore of the lake a warrior stood with a gayly colored
coup stick. This was the point which would indicate the finish line. The
signal was given, and the two men bent to the task.
The crowd cheered as the two canoes sped down the shore line, neither
one getting far ahead before the other would pull alongside. As they
neared the finish line, the watchers on the shore could see the muscles
of the two men striving in their backs and shoulders.
Finally the finish line was just a few yards away, and with a mighty
surge, Black Rock drove his canoe across the finish line first.
There was a mixed chorus of groans and cheers as the men returned to the
starting point and beached their canoes. The crowd milled around Black
Rock as he stepped ashore, but he raised his arms for silence.
“Long Bow has lost the race this day, but let no man say that he is not
a good man with the canoe; for there are none among us who to this day
have been able to defeat him. I shake the hand of my brother Long Bow
and to him I say, it was a great race and I have won, but it was a close
race and if we raced again I might not be so lucky.”
“No, Black Rock, it was not luck this day that won the race, but rather
a strong back being helped by a true loyal heart. I know now why you
challenged me and I could not have won if you had tied one hand behind
your back. I have been selfish and ungrateful for the many friends and
good things that have been showered upon me. I have lost this battle of
the canoes, but it has helped me win a battle with myself. I thank you,
Black Rock, for bringing a straying warrior once again into the camp of
good Ottawas.”