The drums beat slowly. A cloud of sadness hung over the Iroquois
village. People moved slowly about their tasks. Even the pets of the
village seemed to have lost their playfulness. The little children were
playing quietly at sitting games, rather than the usual noisy running
games that they liked so well.
As Little Rock, a young Iroquois warrior, rode into the village with a
dead buck slung across his pony, he became suddenly aware of the great
feeling of sadness that was upon his village. Instead of hearing the
usual gay greetings from the people of the tribe, Little Rock noticed
that when he looked at them they would shake their heads and turn slowly
away. Little Rock feared that great trouble had come and wanted to know
what it was. So he dug his heels into his pony’s sides and sped toward
his father’s wigwam. As he drew near, he saw a number of people gathered
close to the entrance. The drums boomed slowly and sadly. As Little Rock
came nearer his friend, Little Red Cloud, stopped him.
“Wait, Little Rock!” his friend warned gently. “Do not go to your father
now. The Medicine Man is with him.”
“What is the trouble with my father?”
“Do not worry, Little Rock. Great Rock is a great and strong Chief. He
will be all right.”
“As my friend, Little Red Cloud, I ask you once again. What is the
matter with my father? It cannot be so simple, when half the tribe
gathers outside the entrance to my father’s wigwam. They usually come to
talk or seek advice, but now they are silent and their faces are sad.
Tell me, Little Red Cloud, what is wrong?”
Little Rock could not wait for an answer. He jumped from his pony and
ran swiftly toward his father’s wigwam. He was met at the entrance by
his mother.
“Wait, Little Rock! Do not come in yet. Tall Spear is making medicine
for your father. He is very ill.”
“I must go to him. He may need me.”
Just then the Medicine Man joined Little Rock’s mother.
“Your father is asking for you, Little Rock,” the old man said. “You can
see him now.”
Little Rock stepped inside the wigwam and found his father lying on the
great buffalo robe, his head propped up. Great Rock’s face looked drawn
and tired and he breathed with great difficulty. As Little Rock knelt
beside his father, the sick man’s eyes opened wide.
“My son, you have returned.” Great Rock spoke slowly as though each word
pained him greatly. “Did you have a good hunt?”
“Yes, my father. There was much game and I was able to bring a really
fine buck back to our village. He will give us much fine meat, and his
skin will make you a fine shirt.”
Great Rock closed his eyes for a few moments while Little Rock, his
mother, and the Medicine Man waited anxiously in silence. Then Great
Rock opened his eyes, wet his lips, and started speaking with great
effort again.
“That is good, my son. You have learned the ways of the forest well.
This was your first trip alone into the great forest, yet you have
tracked down a fine buck.” The old chief seemed more tired than before.
Little Rock reached for a bowl of soup near by and spooned some of this
to his father’s lips. The old man started to sip the soup slowly. Then
he raised his hand weakly.
“My son, your father is old. Last night this sickness came upon me. I
feel that the time is growing near when I shall journey to the Happy
Hunting Grounds. I have raised you to be a warrior in our tribe. I have
taught you the way of the bear and the way of the fox. You will have to
be the man of the family now and provide for your mother.”
“But, my father,” said Little Rock, “you must not leave us now. Our
tribe and all the Iroquois need you now more than ever before. There is
trouble among the tribes. Soon the Great Council will meet. If your seat
at the Council is taken by one who is not so wise, the trouble among our
tribes will continue and become greater. You must get well, father, for
much depends upon you.”
“There are others as wise, my son. My voice is but a small breeze in a
big windstorm. The men who lead our tribes are wise in the ways of
peace. They will make good decisions. Of that I am certain. But now
leave me, my son, for I wish to be alone. I am tired and I must rest for
the final journey.”
“Yes, my father, I will go now, but it is not to pine and weep, as the
others do. I know you will get well. Tall Spear will make strong
medicine. I have no fear.”
Little Rock left the wigwam and, without saying a word to anyone, he
mounted his pony and rode swiftly from the village. For many hours he
rode until it was nearly dark. Then he stopped his pony in a pine grove.
Leaving the pony to graze, he walked deep into the grove until he came
to a place where an opening in the trees allowed the last rays of light
to stream in.
Under the spreading branches of a great pine tree, Little Rock knelt and
started digging with his knife to root up some plants. When he had
gathered a handful of roots, he arose. He walked toward a stream and
near it he picked some berries from a bush. He dropped the roots and
berries into a small leather pouch and rode back to the village. He
thrust the pouch into his mother’s hand and asked her to brew the roots
quickly in some fresh water.
When the broth had been bubbling for a short time, Little Rock grasped
the gourd from the fire and carried it toward the wigwam where his
father lay ill with fever. As he approached the wigwam, Tall Spear
stopped him.
“Little Rock, what is it you carry in the gourd?” the Medicine Man
asked.
“Many moons ago, my father and I traveled deep into the forest. Finally
we came to a large pine grove. Deep within the pine grove, my father
pointed out certain roots and berries that grew there and nowhere else
near our village. He told me that those berries and roots would make
strong medicine for anyone sick with hotness of the skin. When I spoke
with my father, I remembered those roots and berries. I thought that a
broth made from them might save his life. So I have brought them to his
wigwam.”
The Medicine Man grasped the gourd and was about to turn away when
Little Rock seized his arm.
“Make him drink, Tall Spear. Tell him this is broth made from the plants
in the pine grove. He will understand and he will drink.”
“I will give him the medicine and I will tell him. You have done well,
Little Rock. Your respect for your father’s wisdom is very great.”
With that the Medicine Man disappeared inside the wigwam, and Little
Rock sat upon the ground to wait. Soon Tall Spear came out again.
“Your father has sipped the broth. He told me to clasp your hand as he
would in thanks for bringing the roots. He is resting now. All we can do
is wait.”
As time went by, Little Rock became drowsy and soon could keep his eyes
open no longer. As he fell asleep, the old Medicine Man took his blanket
and wrapped it around the young brave’s shoulders.
A new day was dawning as Little Rock awoke. He looked quickly toward the
entrance of the wigwam. Suddenly Tall Spear appeared, his face looking
cheerful.
“Your father is asking for you. He is weak but he will not die. He will
sit at the Council soon to decide for peace. Go to him and go with your
head held high, for you have much to be proud of this day.”
Little Rock entered the wigwam and hurried to his father’s side. At that
moment his father reached out his hand and Little Rock bent down to take
it. The eyes of father and son met in silence. No words were needed to
tell how much more closely their lives were tied together.
Tall Spear stepped quickly outside. It seemed only a moment to the men
inside the wigwam when they heard the voices of their Oneida brothers
speaking loudly and happily again.