Black Hawk was a young Shawnee brave who lived in the earliest days of
the American Indian. Black Hawk had been raised in his village by his
father, Tall Hawk, who was very proud of him.
Tall Hawk had very carefully taught Black Hawk all there was to know
about hunting, fishing, stalking, and all the other necessary ways of
forest and stream.
Each year, Tall Hawk would look at his son growing and exclaim to his
wife, Soft Bird, “See how tall and strong he grows. Surely he is the
most handsome brave in our village. Not only is he handsome but brave
and strong as well; he will bring much honor and glory to his father.”
At this Soft Bird nodded, for she knew how much Tall Hawk thought of his
son.
It was late spring, and the Shawnee were preparing to take the trail of
the wild fish and game. It was time they began thinking of new skins for
clothing and housing and food for their families. Each father who had a
son, carefully trained his son for just this day.
Finally all was in readiness and the great hunting party, after bidding
good-bye to their friends and loved ones, took the trail to the north
where scouts had earlier reported seeing herd of deer. Perhaps this
would be easier than they had thought, but as they traveled onward, Tall
Hawk began to realize that they were quite a long way from the village.
He signaled for the party to stop and called two of the leader warriors
to him. “We have traveled far from our village. Do you think it wise
that we go on? Surely along the way we have seen many single deer, but
nowhere have we seen signs of a herd or a large number. This territory
which we now enter is the home and hunting grounds of the Conestogas. We
must leave here, for we are on land that does not belong to us.”
Tall Hawk was turning to speak to the others of the party when one of
the warriors interrupted him. “Yes, this is Conestoga country, but we
are to stop now because of a few woodland weasels that call this their
land?”
“But it is their land and we shall do just that, turn around and go
back. Such foolishness this day could bring the angry Conestogas down on
our heads in a very short space of time and we would be badly
outnumbered. Our party is not too strong, and any attack upon us here in
unfamiliar territory would mean that many lives would be lost.”
“Are you afraid, Tall Hawk? Does your stomach swim and your heart
flutter like a bird? Surely the Conestogas do not concern you?”
“One Conestoga against one Shawnee, or even two Conestogas against one
Shawnee, and I would not in the least be afraid, for the gods know that
one good Shawnee brave could hold his own against any two Conestogas.
But we are on their home grounds. Any attack by a large force of
Conestogas and any one of us would be lucky to live. No, foolish one, we
shall turn and go back in the direction we came. We shall search
elsewhere for the elusive deer.”
With that, Tall Hawk turned to the hunting party and repeated what had
gone on between himself and the other two braves. There were some grunts
from braves who disagreed with Tall Hawk, but for the most part they
were willing to return.
As the party turned to go back down the trail, one of the scouts who had
been sent ahead came running into the circle to report that a large band
of Conestogas were heading for just that place and they would be better
off to start immediately for the home village. Tall Hawk gave the
signal, and the hunting party turned quickly and trotted south toward
the village.
It was fully a day’s journey and they had no rest. The long grind began
to tell upon their numbers. When they would falter and were about to
collapse, Tall Hawk could be heard to shout, “Keep running, fools! Do
you wish your hair to grace the home of one of our Conestoga neighbors?”
This threat served its purpose, and the braves who were tiring suddenly
found fresh strength and would continue the grueling run.
Soon they reached their own hunting grounds and were safe on the other
side when the Conestogas broke from the cover of the forest and into the
meadow which separated the hunting grounds of the two tribes.
Suddenly the leader of the Conestogas raised his hand, and the band of
braves with him stopped running and listened. The chief explained that
they had reached the border and could go no further. And so the score
was equal. Black Hawk was proud of his father, for once again he had
proved to his fellow braves that he was a wise man.
The hunting party slowed down a bit now and, after traveling about two
miles, they camped for the night. They were tired and after a hasty
supper they fell off to sleep one by one until all but the guards were
sound asleep. Black Hawk was soon sound asleep as well, but Tall Hawk
lay awake thinking.
Why did they not sight the deer before they reached the land of the
Conestogas? Surely the scouts that had reported the deer herd to the
village had not imagined seeing so many deer, or had they? And why had
the chase taken them into Conestoga land? Over and over he asked himself
these questions until he could not stay awake any longer and finally he
was asleep with the rest of the party.
The next morning after breakfast the party continued on its trek, this
time turning westward. Soon they came to a large lake and Tall Hawk
divided the party, requesting some of them to remain here and fish and
the others to continue on around the lake in search of game. Black Hawk
was among those chosen to stay and fish and he was very happy about it.
He saw that he was the only young brave allowed to stay with the fishing
party and he felt it was because he was such a good fisherman.
When the hunting party had finally gone out of sight, Red Hand, the
second in command, gathered the group and explained to them their
mission. This lake should have plenty of fish, and so they would spend
the next day and night here fishing and in the morning of the second day
return to their village, as they hoped, with a successful catch of fish
from the beautiful lake.
Red Hand led the way down the shore of the lake to where the last
fishing party had hidden the canoes. Then, asking the party to team up
in pairs, he slipped a pouch from his shoulder and gave out fishing
equipment to each brave. When each one had received his equipment, Red
Hand said, “We shall fish the lake for one day and we shall rest on
shore for one night. On the dawn of the second day the hunting party
will return and we shall all leave for our homes together. Let us pray
that the gods will smile favorably upon us this day and that our catch
will be a large one. Good luck to all of you, and may your lines be
heavy with fish when you return.”
With these words ringing in their ears the Indians rushed to the canoes
and pushed off into the quiet blue waters of this great lake. Black Hawk
had chosen as his partner an older brave of the tribe by the name of
Crooked Arrow. Perhaps it seemed strange that Black Hawk should choose
his partner because he was so young, but Crooked Arrow very rarely spoke
and many of the Indians of the tribe did not like him. Why they did not
like him, Black Hawk did not know. He did know that Crooked Arrow was
not very good-looking and that he was a little fatter than most of the
other men of the tribe. But, aside from that, Black Hawk could see no
reason for not liking him and so had asked him if he would be Black
Hawk’s partner in the fishing trip.
Crooked Arrow had shaken his head and without saying a word had followed
Black Hawk to the canoes and helped him lift one into the lake. The
other braves had laughed at Black Hawk when they saw him choose Crooked
Arrow as his partner, but Red Hand had motioned them to be quiet and
stop making fun of the boy.
When the instructions had been given out and the equipment distributed
among the braves, Black Hawk and Crooked Arrow stepped into their canoe
and pushed away from the shore. They dipped their paddles softly into
the lake and the canoe glided quietly across the waters.
Soon they had pulled away from the other canoe and Crooked Arrow who had
taken the stern of the canoe, was steering the canoe for a point of land
about a half a mile down the lake shore. Black Hawk turned to him and
asked, “Why do you steer for that part of the lake, Crooked Arrow? I
should think that that section of lake over to the eastward would be
better.”
“Crooked Arrow knows where the fish are, little Black Hawk.”
He said nothing more but pulled strongly with his paddle and the canoe
fairly skimmed across the water. Black Hawk thought to himself that they
would probably have gone even faster if he, Black Hawk, had removed his
paddle from the water, for he could not keep up with Crooked Arrow’s
stroke and was causing a backwash with his paddle by dragging it through
the water.
Finally Crooked Arrow said, “My little friend, dip your paddle deep and
pull strongly back toward the stern of the canoe. When you have
completed the stroke, draw your paddle completely from the water and
reach it forward high in the air before placing it in the water again.”
Black Hawk followed his instructions, and soon he found that the
paddling was a lot easier by using that technique than the way he had
been trying to paddle. He had been concentrating so hard on his paddling
that he did not realize that they were soon to the place where Crooked
Arrow said that they would be sure to catch some fish.
Crooked Arrow motioned for Black Hawk to throw his line overboard, which
he did, and with that Crooked Arrow slowed down the canoe to an even,
smooth pace which would take them just past the small jutting of land.
Black Hawk could see his own lure shining in the water. As the lure came
parallel with the jutting land there was a great swirl of water, and the
fight was on.
A very large fish had grasped the lure in his mouth and it was now a
fight between the boy and the fish. It was a huge bass that was
threshing around in the water and soon it was obvious that Black Hawk
would be the victor. With some swift overhand strokes he had pulled the
fish up to the side of the canoe. Then with a thrust of his arm, Crooked
Arrow speared the fish with his fish spear and brought him safely
aboard. He was a beautiful big bass and Black Hawk was so proud he
nearly tipped over the canoe in his excitement to see the fish.
“Be not so excited, my young friend. It is a nice-sized fish, but the
day is young and we must catch many, many more.” Black Hawk cast his
lure in again, and soon the episode was repeated. Back and forth Crooked
Arrow paddled near the jutting land and fish after fish fell victim to
the line of Black Hawk and the spear of Crooked Arrow.
Soon shadows began to gather and Crooked Arrow turned the bow of the
canoe toward the place they had started from. Black Hawk paddled even
harder now going home, for he was very proud. There in the bottom of the
canoe, all nicely strung on an improvised leather loop, were twelve
plump large fish.
When they reached the shore, Black Hawk with his fish in hand dashed
ashore to report his success to Red Hand. Red Hand looked with pride
upon the catch Black Hawk held up to show him and then he said, “My, but
that is a fine catch of fish. Did you catch them all by yourself?”
“Oh no,” said Black Hawk, “Crooked Arrow and I both caught them. They
would strike at my line and when I pulled them to the side of the boat,
Crooked Arrow would spear them and bring them on board. Oh, what an
exciting trip we have had. How did the others make out, or are we the
first to return?”
“Yes, you are the first to return, but remember you were not too far
from the landing place. The others will be here shortly. Sit down and we
will smoke and rest while we wait for the others.”
They sat down and waited. Soon the other canoes, one by one, would slip
up to the shore, and the braves would leap out and triumphantly tell Red
Hand of their catch. Soon the last of the canoes had been beached and
the last of the fish carefully packed away for the journey home the
following morning.
The braves had a supper of delicious fresh lake bass and after they had
sat around the fire telling of their adventures on the lake they all
turned in for the night. Soon the fire had burned to just ashes and all
the braves slept peacefully in the quiet of the night.
It had been a long day on the lake in the sun, and now the quiet spring
breezes through the trees overhead sang a soft lullaby along the lake
shore. When it had been quiet for a long time, Black Hawk sat up and
noticed that Crooked Arrow was gone from where he lay down to sleep.
Black Hawk looked around and then suddenly he glanced toward the lake.
There he saw Crooked Arrow standing quiet. Black Hawk rose and quietly
slipped down toward the lake and to where Crooked Arrow was standing.
Approaching the lakeside, Black Hawk respected the brave, Crooked Arrow,
and when he had reached a point about five yards from the brave he
stopped. He could barely hear Crooked Arrow and then he knew that
Crooked Arrow was thanking someone.
“Finally, O Great Spirit, I, Crooked Arrow, humbly thank you for sending
to me a friend, this boy, Black Hawk, who asked me to go with him on the
fishing trip. For this I am thankful and also I am thankful that you
sent the fish of the lake to his hook so that his catch was a large one.
You have been very kind to Crooked Arrow this day and I will not forget.
I have never known my family, but from this day forth I shall look upon
Black Hawk as if he were my son. I know he has a father, a good and
wonderful man, but I am sure he will not mind if I remain close to him,
for his kindness to me this day has brought great joy to my heart. Thank
you once again, O Great Spirit.”
Crooked Arrow turned and walked slowly back to where he had been
sleeping and lay down once again. Either he did not look or did not
particularly notice that Black Hawk was missing from his place upon the
ground.
For a long time Black Hawk sat by the side of the lake thinking about
what Crooked Arrow had been saying. Suddenly he realized what had
happened here. He had made a friend, a very close friend, and it made
his heart warm. Slowly he too returned to where he had slept and, lying
down once again, was soon fast asleep.
Dawn broke bright and warm upon the lake and soon all the Indians were
astir.
They all ate a hearty breakfast and as they were packing the remainder
of the equipment and safely storing the canoes away once again, the
first of the hunting party arrived.
They too had a very successful hunt, and Black Hawk counted five very
plump bucks being carried by the hunting party.
Some of the braves were quick to point out to him that the largest buck
had been brought down with an arrow from the bow of Tall Hawk and this
made Black Hawk very proud of his father. The party started on the
return trip to the village and it was a happy group which entered the
circle of homes to be greeted warmly by friends and family who viewed
the fine food supply with a great deal of laughter and joy. The party
soon dispersed, each one returning to his own home.
When Black Hawk and his father returned to their home there was a fine
meal awaiting them; and the rest of the family, his mother and two
sisters, greeted the two hunters with praise for their success which had
preceded them to their home by the little braves’ spreading the word
through the village of the success of the hunters, especially Tall Hawk
and his son Black Hawk, the great fisherman.
After supper, Black Hawk stepped out of his home and wandered through
the village greeting his many friends and talking with them of the
adventures he had just been through.
Finally Black Hawk had been to almost all his friends when he noticed
one rather shabby wigwam set off from the rest on the far side of the
village. Slowly puzzling a little bit about this, he wandered toward the
wigwam. He saw one of his playmates, Walking Bird, and he stopped to ask
who lived in the wigwam in the distance.
“Oh,” said Walking Bird, “that is the home of Crooked Arrow. He lives
off by himself like that, for he seems to enjoy being by himself. He is
a strange sort of man and he very rarely comes out of his wigwam to
participate in the activities of the tribe, except when there is a
hunting or a fishing party or a tribal celebration. Was not he on the
same trip with you?”
“Yes, he was, and I think I shall pay him a visit.”
Quickly Black Hawk approached the wigwam of Crooked Arrow and when he
had reached the flap that served as a door he called out and asked if he
might enter.
“Come in, come in, my friend, Black Hawk,” called Crooked Arrow.
The boy entered and Crooked Arrow rose to greet him.
“It is very kind of you to come and see me.”
“Is it not the thing to do for friends to visit one another?” asked
Black Hawk. “Why do you live here by yourself? Have you no family?”
“No, Black Hawk, Crooked Arrow has no family, and I have liked living
here on the edge of the village. It is quiet and I get much time to work
on my tools for fishing and hunting. I like it here.”
Black Hawk stayed until it was quite late and he noticed that Crooked
Arrow talked on and on about many, many things. Finally it was getting
very late and Black Hawk rose to leave.
“Come again, little Black Hawk. My wigwam is always open to my good
friend. The next time you come we will have another fine talk.”
“Thank you, friend Crooked Arrow. I shall return often for you have been
a good friend.”
With that, Black Hawk turned and walked to his own wigwam. As he
approached his home he noticed his father just leaving. When Tall Hawk
saw his son, he stopped and called to him. “Black Hawk, my son, where
have you been? It is quite late and your mother was getting quite
concerned.”
“I was visiting with a friend, my father, a very good friend.” It was
then that Black Hawk spoke with his father about the events on the
fishing trip and about how Crooked Arrow had knelt at the lakeside and
thanked the Great Spirit for his friend, Black Hawk.
His father listened attentively and then when Black Hawk had finished he
said, “My son, I am very proud of you. You have done a great and
generous thing. Crooked Arrow has been a lonely person. You have brought
much joy to his life. To have a friend is a wonderful thing.”
“But, my father, if this is such a wonderful thing, why has no one
befriended him before? Why does he still live alone on the edge of the
tribe? Why is he alone on the hunt though he is with many braves?”
“He is not an easy person to talk to, my son. You, a boy, have spoken to
him as an equal; this has meant much to him. The rest of us should be
ashamed. We have been so busy that we have not taken time out to look at
what is around us. It has taken a young Indian boy to bring to our
attention this lack of concern for a fellow member of the tribe. If he
had been a worthless brave who had sought pity and help from others, the
treatment he had been given would have been what he deserved.”
But in thinking back, Tall Hawk realized that Crooked Arrow had always
carried his share of the responsibility in the tribe.
When a hunting party was forming, he always volunteered; when a battle
was in progress, Crooked Arrow was always found to be in the middle.
When there was distasteful jobs to be done around the village or a new
lodge to be built or some repairs needed or someone to stand night
watch, Crooked Arrow would always be among the first to volunteer.
Yes, thought Tall Hawk, here is a man who has been treated with scorn
who should have been treated with honor by his fellow braves.
The following day after giving much thought to the question, Tall Hawk
went to consult with the leaders of the village.
After many hours, a delegation was formed and they proceeded to the
wigwam of Crooked Arrow. The fat ugly warrior stepped from his wigwam
and suddenly his eyes grew a little wild until he saw in the delegation
Black Hawk, his friend.
“Why have you come to the humble wigwam of Crooked Arrow?” he asked of
the leaders. “What have I done to cause you to come? If I have done
wrong tell me and I shall do all in my power to make it right.”
“No,” said Tall Hawk, “It is we who have done wrong. We come to invite
you to rebuild your wigwam within the village circle. There is a fine
place right next to mine, and I would consider it an honor if you would
build there and become my neighbor. My son has told me quite a bit about
you and I can see now where we have been very unfair in the way we have
neglected making you a part of our tribe. Come, become a part of our
family. Share our fires and our food and we shall talk together of the
great hunts. This we ask you to do as a sign that you will forgive us
for this wrong which has existed so long.”
“Yes, I will come, but listen. You have done me no wrong. I have been
happy living here on the edge of the village, watching the children play
and taking part in the hunt. I have had a good life. I have never known
what real friendship was from the time I was a little boy going from one
to the other begging for food to keep me going. But Black Hawk has
brought the meaning of friendship to my heart, and for that reason I
have desired these last few days to live closer to my people. Yes, I
will come. With gladness in my heart, I will come.”
The group turned and started for the center of the village to proclaim
what had just happened; and, as they walked, a small boy, Black Hawk,
and a not so ugly, fat, young man could be seen walking hand in hand—a
certain lightness in their step that had not been there before.