The boys stepped back and stared at the boy. “You are a coward,†Naltan said angrily. “I cannot waste time arguing with you. Come, Ceysoda, we must leave immediately.â€
Without further words, the two friends turned and started for the forest. The snow was beginning to fall faster and thicker now. As they reached the forest, they stopped to choose the most likely trail that Beartooth would follow. The race had tired Ceysoda, and he was breathing heavily now.
“Wait, Naltan,†he pleaded. “The boy was right. How would we know which direction Beartooth would take? Besides, at the rate this snow is falling any trace of him would be covered. Is it wise to go on?â€
“Wise or not, Ceysoda, we must go on. Beartooth must be found. Not knowing the forest too well, he would probably travel the main trail toward the north. We will go in that direction. If we hurry, we may be able to pick up a sign of his route before the snow has a chance to cover it completely, and reach him before he goes too far.â€
The boys spoke no further but hurried up the trail to the north, keeping their eyes toward the ground to look for signs of the boy’s having passed that way. Soon Naltan stopped and pointed to a place in the trail where the snow had been disturbed.
“He must have fallen here. See the way the snow has been pushed aside. Come, quickly, Ceysoda, he cannot be too far ahead.†The two boys continued swiftly on the trail. Soon they were able to make out signs of fresh moccasin prints in the snow. But just when they felt they were getting close, the wind began to blow harder, sweeping along the trail and covering any tracks or other signs that they might have found. The boys had been traveling at a fast pace for some time, when Ceysoda stopped suddenly.
“Wait, Naltan, I must rest,†he said. “I am tired. I cannot go on without rest. Just for a moment let me catch my breath. Surely Beartooth will not continue without rest, too, and we will lose no ground by stopping for a short while.â€
“All right,†said Naltan, “but just for a moment. The day is growing late.†The two boys squatted down by the side of the trail and breathed deeply to get their wind back again. Suddenly, Nathan gazed up through the trees and then, stretching his hands out in front of him, he said, “Ceysoda, my friend, look! It has stopped snowing. We are in luck. But we must hurry even so, because the storm will no longer slow Beartooth’s pace.â€
The two boys rose and sped on up the trail. Truly they were in luck, for soon they came upon a place in the snow where someone had stopped to rest at the side of the trail. The prints of small moccasins were plain in the snow and led straight up the trail. Now the boys increased their efforts, for they knew they must be close. Suddenly, the tracks stopped and turned off the trail into the thick woods. This puzzled Naltan, but he turned to follow them. The two boys began finding the going a little rougher. Suddenly, they found that they not only were following moccasin tracks, but another set of tracks now appeared not far behind the boy’s. These were the tracks of a bear!
The bear, Naltan thought, must have been late in going into hibernation for the winter because he had not found enough food. Now a delicious morsel of warm-blooded food was on the trail ahead of him. Now Naltan understood why Beartooth had left the trail; he must have seen the bear ahead on the trail and turned off to escape him. But the hear was not going to be avoided so easily. Naltan suddenly stopped and turned to Ceysoda.
“What shall we do if we do come upon the bear and Beartooth?†he asked. “We are not armed with our bows and arrows. We could hardly defend ourselves against such a worthy opponent as a bear. Two young Indians such as we, no matter how brave, would be easy prey for a large bear. Yet we must go on and see if there is any help we can give. To turn back now would certainly mark us as cowards.â€
Ceysoda did not like the idea of fighting a full-grown bear; yet he liked less the thought of turning his back on danger and returning to the village to meet his friends’ ridicule and his father’s anger for having been so cowardly. They would have trouble enough as it was, for having left the village without letting their parents or friends know where they had gone. Naltan’s voice swung his thoughts back to his present plight.
“I have an idea, Ceysoda. Between us we have two knives. Let us cut a couple of stout saplings to use as spears if we should need them. At least we will have some chance, even if it is not a very good one, against the bear.â€
So the two boys immediately began cutting stout saplings to hack into crude spears—poor weapons against an angry bear, but the best the boys could think of at the moment. When they sharpened the points on their spears, they continued following the very clear trail in the snow. They did not travel as fast now because they sensed a danger lurking ahead of them. They did not know just how far ahead the bear was, whether he was still following Beartooth, or whether he had discovered them. In fact, at this very moment, he might be awaiting them, hidden among the rocks up ahead, which they could plainly see now as they watched the forest in front of them cautiously while following the tracks carefully in the snow.
They were continuing their anxious march in silence when they were startled by a sound that echoed through the forest, a sound all too familiar to them—the growl of an angry bear. It had come from in front and to the right of them. So the boys went on with even more caution. Suddenly, Naltan signaled to Ceysoda and the two boys crouched low to the ground. Ahead of them, about a hundred paces, the natural trail they had been following came to an end in a boxlike formation of rocks. The rocks reached almost straight up to the height of an elm tree. On top of this enclosure stood the bear and about ten feet below him on a ledge sticking out from the rocks was Beartooth. Behind the bear the boys noticed that the rocks continued to rise and they figured that they had come upon almost a dead end. Beartooth, Naltan figured, had reached the dead end and panic-stricken because of the bear, had either fallen or jumped to the ledge. For the moment he was safe, for the bear did not want to chance jumping to the ledge and there was no way that he could climb down. Suddenly he turned to the side and calmly walked around and down beside the wall until he was once again on the forest floor. He trotted to a spot directly beneath where the boy lay and studied the situation, trying to figure a way to get at this thing that had invaded the privacy of his forest at a time when he had been almost mad with hunger.
The wind was blowing into the faces of the boys so they knew for the time being they were safe because the bear could not smell them, but if the wind should shift they would then be in trouble, for the bear would turn his attention to them. This also gave them time to think and work out a plan. Suddenly Ceysoda touched Naltan’s shoulder.
“My brother,†he said, “he moved. Beartooth moved; he is alive. We must do something.†“Yes,†said Naltan, “for in his present situation he might fall from the ledge and then it would be all over. If we can somehow drive the bear off, we could then rescue Beartooth and return to the village.â€
“That is a good idea, Naltan, but tell me, friend, how do we get Beartooth off the ledge once we have chased the bear away, if we can chase him away?â€
This was a serious problem, for the boys had nothing they could use as a rope and, besides, Naltan could for the moment think of no way to get rid of the bear.
Just then the boys noticed Beartooth moving again, but this time he rolled even closer to the ledge. Without thinking, Ceysoda stood straight up and shouted at Beartooth. “Look out, Beartooth, you are right at the edge of the ledge. Look out, you will fall.â€
Then Ceysoda realized what he had done, and he stood frozen as the bear turned and raising himself on his hind legs, emitting a terrible growl, started for the boys. Ceysoda’s shouts had roused Beartooth and he worked his way back from the edge of the ledge close to the wall and safety. Meanwhile the bear was increasing his speed toward the two boys. The boys stood almost frozen with fear, but suddenly they were able to shake off the paralysis that had gripped them, and both boys drew their rustic spears in front of them to await the charge of the bear who was coming ever closer.
Naltan stepped slightly in front of Ceysoda in order to take the brunt of the attack, but Ceysoda would have none of it and edged up right next to Naltan. By this time the bear was almost upon them and with a terrifying snarl came rushing the last few yards.
Naltan and Ceysoda, with the ends of the spears jammed into the ground held fast as the bear rushed right into the sharp points. The bear stopped in his tracks as if suddenly he had forgotten something and then with an agonizing snarl fell over dead, the two spears protruding from his body. Immediately Naltan and Ceysoda ran forward to the base of the ledge. Climbing to the top above Beartooth, the boys cut a long stout staff and lowered the end to Beartooth who grasped it and was pulled to safety. Then swiftly the three boys started for the village. On the way, each in turn told their story.
First Beartooth told of how he had run away and how he had been chased to the top of the rock formation by the bear and, in trying to avoid him, had fallen. The two boys told how they had followed Beartooth to bring him back and of their coming upon the bear and their narrow escape.
When they reached the warmth and security of their village again, Naltan and Ceysoda went with Beartooth to his wigwam and there assured him that they had no desire to punish him in any way for his trickery of that morning. “What you did was wrong, but what has happened to you today we firmly believe is punishment enough. Let us forget the incidents of this day. We are still friends and friends we must remain, for only through unity and friendship will we grow into strong good Oneida warriors.â€
Beartooth smiled and thanked his two friends, and he continued to smile as Naltan and Ceysoda walked off arm in arm toward their homes and large suppers that awaited the returning heroes.
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.â€
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!â€
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.â€
“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.â€
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.â€
“Wait, let me speak,†Little Thunderbird begged. “I have something important to say and I want to be heard.â€
“All right, speak,†the tall lad said, “but be brief—and none of your lies!â€
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.â€
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.â€
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.
Based on an idea from a story told to the author by Mr. Walter Elliott.
The dawn came slowly as the sun tried to fight its way through the mist that hung in the valleys. The spring had been cool, and for nearly a moon rain had been drenching the ground. By midmorning, the sun had burned away the haze, and its rays beat down upon the little Kickapoo village, warming and drying everything that had been wet and cold for so long.
When Little Snapping Turtle walked from his father’s wigwam and saw the bright sun and the blue skies, he called to his father who was still inside.
“Father, father, come here! See, the sun has won. The storm clouds have run from the battle with the sun. Once again we have light and warmth. Is this not a good reason for a celebration?â€
“Yes, my son, it is reason enough for you and your friends to celebrate. But we should be glad for the rain we have had because it makes the forest green and gives the streams new strength and makes the lakes rise so that all the animals may drink. Of course, it has also kept the young braves in their houses, so now that the sun is out again we should have a celebration.â€
“What shall we do, father? Can we go on a hunt or a fishing trip? Can we, father?â€
“No, my son, there is not time for that yet. Now that the sun is with us again, there is much gardening to do right here in the village. But late this afternoon we shall have a race to see who has lost the most speed during this lazy vacation. Go to the other young braves in the tribe and tell them that I, Big Snapping Turtle, Medicine Man of the Kickapoo tribe, will give a fine belt and knife as a prize to the young brave who wins the race this afternoon.â€
“What kind of a race will it be, father?â€
“Oh, it would not be fair to tell you, my young son, for then you would have an advantage over the other young braves. Just spread the news and this afternoon we will gather in the meadow for the race.â€
Eagerly Little Snapping Turtle ran to tell all the young boys to gather in the meadow north of the village late in the afternoon for a race. He also told them about the prize that any young brave would want. Most of the boys he talked to were working hard in the gardens to make up for time lost during the rain. But they stopped long enough to listen excitedly to the news Little Snapping Turtle brought. All of them said they would be there, and then went back to work. The rain had been good for the seed, but it had also been good for the weeds. When Little Snapping Turtle got back home, he went to work cheerfully with his father in their garden to clear out the weeds.
Finally the time neared for the big contest, and the young boys began to gather in the meadow. Soon every boy in the village was present, and Big Snapping Turtle stepped to the front to explain the rules.
He first gave each boy a small container made of birch bark. After this had been done, Big Snapping Turtle signaled for all to be quiet.
“A quarter of a mile from here there are several small lakes,†he said. “In one of those lakes, as you know, there are some very small fish. Each of you has a container. At the signal you will run to that lake and trap a small fish. Making sure to keep the fish in the container, you will run back to the meadow. The first boy to return with a fish still alive in the container will win the race. Then after the prize has been awarded, we will put all the fish you caught into the stream that runs through our village so that they can swim to the great lake to the south.â€
The boys waited impatiently for the signal. When it was given, they shouted and laughed as they raced toward the lake that held the small fish. Little Snapping Turtle soon was far ahead of the other young boys. When he reached the lake shore, he waded knee deep into the lake and placed his container halfway under and then stood perfectly still, waiting for the curious little fish to swim into the trap.
As he stood there quietly, peering at the sandy bottom, several of the others arrived and began to follow his lead. Soon there were fifteen or twenty of them spread out near the shore standing motionless waiting for the fish. Now and then a boy would shout that he had made a catch only to find that the fish had escaped.
Finally patience rewarded Little Snapping Turtle. With a flick of his wrist, Little Snapping Turtle scooped his container into the water. When he looked into it, he discovered that he had trapped two fish instead of one. Quickly he waded toward shore and he saw that two boys had also trapped their fish and were on the way back to the meadow. He stopped only a moment to tear a large leaf from a plant that grew along the lake shore. Then he wrapped it tightly over the mouth of the container and started running again.
The two boys were running swiftly ahead of him along the trail, each with a container in his hand. Suddenly, one of the boys slipped and fell and his container and fish went flying off into the brush. Now only one boy, Crying Hawk, stood between Little Snapping Turtle and victory. Using all the strength he had, he began to catch up with the young boy ahead of him.
As he began to pass Crying Hawk, he noticed that the boy was limping. Looking at the boy’s feet, he saw that Crying Hawk’s moccasins were loose, and he guessed that a pebble must have fallen into one of them. The boy stopped to take the pebble out. As he did, Little Snapping Turtle sped by him. Turning to look at Crying Hawk, Little Snapping Turtle found that the boy had just sat down and was crying. He stopped and went back to him.
“What is the trouble, Crying Hawk?†Little Snapping Turtle asked kindly.
“I thought that for once I could win a game and own a new knife and belt. But a pebble has cut my foot, and I cannot hope to win now. I was lucky enough to catch my fish first and I thought that I had a good head start. But as it always has happened, an accident will make me lose the race. I will never be a winner. Don’t wait for me, Little Snapping Turtle. If you stay with me any longer, the other boys will catch up with you.â€
Then Little Snapping Turtle remembered that Crying Hawk had never won any contest. He was a little slower than the other boys, and not so skilled as many of them. He, Little Snapping Turtle, had won many contests and many prizes. Quickly he took off his own new doeskin moccasins and slipped them onto Crying Hawk’s feet.
“These will protect your feet,†he told Crying Hawk. “Run quickly now, for you still have a chance. Take my container, too. I have sealed a leaf tightly over the top and little water will spill. Today you will win the race.â€
Crying Hawk started to complain, but Little Snapping Turtle silenced him. He pulled the other boy to his feet and, shoving the container into his hand, sent him on his way. With the new moccasins, the boy ran more easily and soon was out of sight. Little Snapping Turtle picked up Crying Hawk’s container and put his feet into the ill-fitting moccasins. He trotted slowly after Crying Hawk, keeping just far enough behind to make sure the boy would win.
He heard several pairs of feet moving swiftly along the trail just in back of him. From here to the meadow, the trail narrowed and only one boy could use it at one time. So Little Snapping Turtle kept his slow pace and kept the others from passing Crying Hawk. Little Snapping Turtle could see the clearing now and he sped toward the meadow. There he saw Crying Hawk standing proudly next to Little Snapping Turtle’s father. He ran up to Crying Hawk.
“Say nothing of what happened on the trail,†he whispered. “You have run a good race, Crying Hawk.â€
Soon all the boys were back and the inspection of the containers began. When Big Snapping Turtle had seen all of them, he stepped to the front and declared Crying Hawk the winner. Everyone cheered as the boy received the knife and belt from the smiling Medicine Man. Then they all started back toward the village to place the fish in the stream and then go home.
As Little Snapping Turtle and his father walked along the trail, the Medicine Man asked, “Where did you get that container, my son?â€
Little Snapping Turtle blushed as he looked up at his father, but his father smiled. “It is well, my son. I knew each container that I had given out and at the end of the race you did not have the one you had started with. I also noticed the beautiful moccasins that Crying Hawk was wearing. I discovered, too, how big my son’s heart really is. Today you lost a race, but the happiness you won is the best possible prize.â€
Among the American Indians truth was respected as most sacred. Parents took great pains to teach their children that above all else, a good Indian was one who had honor and spoke nothing but the truth, or, as the Indians would say, spoke with a straight tongue. It is about the power of truth that this story is told.
The Blackfoot Indians were a wandering tribe of the Western plains. Their very lives depended upon the great buffalo herds. From the buffalo meat and hides, the Blackfeet were able to get their food, skins for clothing, and their tepees; and from the head, horns, and tail, decorations for costume and headdress.
Blackfoot villages were always moving, since they were set up near the grazing herds of buffalo. When the herd moved, the whole tribe would tie its belongings onto travois drawn by horses, and move with the buffalo until the animals stopped once again to graze where there was more prairie grass.
Young Deerfoot, the son of a great warrior of the Blackfeet, Sleeping Bear, prided himself on being one of the strongest of the tribe’s young braves. While growing into young manhood, he had won many honors in his tribe as a warrior and a great hunter. Blind Dog was another young brave about Deerfoot’s age. The son of Black Dog, he also had become quite famous among the Blackfeet for his honors in war and hunting.
Both young braves were guarding the tribe’s horses, one very warm summer evening as the chiefs of the Blackfeet were gathered in the center of the village around the blazing campfires. The chiefs had met to talk of tribal problems and to plan ahead for fall and winter. At this time, life had been unusually peaceful on the plains. There had been some horse stealing and a few occasional skirmishes among small parties of raiders from different tribes. Outside of that, there had not been much excitement.
As the chiefs sat around the fire, Blind Dog and Deerfoot were taking their job of standing guard over the horses very seriously. The quiet was broken by a noise off to one side of the herd of horses. Deerfoot signaled silently to Blind Dog to draw near so that they might speak. When Blind Dog had reached Deerfoot’s side the two crouched low behind the horses, and Deerfoot whispered that he had heard a noise slightly to the west of the herd.
The two braves crept forward on their hands and knees, keeping the horses between themselves and whatever had made the noise. The horses began moving uneasily as the two young braves drew closer to the spot from which the noise had come.
Deerfoot stopped abruptly. He slapped Blind Dog’s shoulder and began to laugh. Not two paces from them was a small mongrel dog which had wandered down among the horses seeking a cool place in which to lie and rest for a while. When Blind Dog saw what had amused Deerfoot so much, he laughed too, because they had been so alarmed by a dog.
“If it were not so quiet tonight,†Deerfoot remarked, “we would not have been so worried by anything so unimportant as a puppy.â€
“Yes,†Blind Dog agreed, “it has been much too quiet. We have not had much excitement. Things have been far too peaceful.â€
“Do you wish to have a war on your hands, Blind Dog?†Deerfoot asked with a smile.
“Well, it would be a very welcome change from horse herd duty at night, and repairing bridles and broken weapons in the daytime.â€
“You are getting restless, my friend.†Deerfoot spoke soberly now. “That is not good. When one gets restless, one becomes careless. That can be dangerous.â€
At first, Blind Dog refused to be serious. “Oh, do not worry, Deerfoot. I may have become restless, but I will never become careless.†Then he added gravely, “To become careless even for a moment might mean death to a warrior like myself. There is many a brave in other tribes who would love to see my scalp hanging from his tepee pole. But I like the feel of my scalp right where it is. Anyway, nothing—not even a puppy—will ever catch me off guard.â€
“Do not be so sure of yourself, Blind Dog. Being so sure can make any brave careless. You must always be alert. It may seem too peaceful to us here now, but even the quiet shadows of this very night could conceal our enemies. As we sit here talking noisily about not being careless, they could be stealing some of our best horses. Let us go back to our guard posts so that we can watch the herd as we should.â€
Deerfoot and Blind Dog mounted their horses and had started to circle the herd to see that nothing had disturbed the horses. When they had finished checking and had dismounted, Blind Dog complained that he felt ill.
“Since we have just checked the herd and everything is all right,†Deerfoot said, “why don’t you return to the village, Blind Dog, and go to your tepee? It is almost time for the other guards to take our places. I can stand guard alone for that short time.â€
Blind Dog said that he should not leave his friend, but with Deerfoot’s urging, he finally agreed and walked slowly back toward the village. Arriving at his tepee, he found that his father must still be at the council meeting. The night air had become chilly and he wrapped himself in a warm buffalo robe and curled up in the corner of the tepee. Blind Dog was just about to fall off to sleep when he heard men shouting excitedly and horses snorting and pounding their hoofs. He struggled out of the robe and stepped outside of the tepee in time to see several chieftains break from the council ring and head toward the horses.
As they reached the edge of the herd, they called out for the guard but there was no response. They called again and again, but their only answer was the stomping of horses and the frightened neighing of ponies. It was very dark and it was some time before the chieftains discovered that about six of their finest animals were missing. Where were the guards, they wondered, and how had the horses gotten loose? Then someone noticed Blind Dog and called to him.
“Blind Dog, were you not on watch with Deerfoot? What did you see? What happened? Who raided our herd?â€
Blind Dog looked at Great Owl and his father, Black Dog, who stood waiting for his answer. Just then they heard the clopping of a single pony’s hoofs. Peering into the darkness, they could make out the figure of a lone horseman riding wildly toward the standing group. As the rider came nearer, Blind Dog saw that it was his friend. Deerfoot jumped from his pony and stood, breathless and bleeding, before the chieftains, waiting for silence so that he could report what had happened. When everyone was quiet, Deerfoot began his story. For the moment, Blind Dog was forgotten.
“Blind Dog and I were on guard here at the horse herd,†Deerfoot said, “when we heard a strange noise. We found that it was only a stray dog that had wandered down here to the horse herd. We went back to our guard posts and settled down again, keeping careful watch.
“After some time had passed, I heard another noise much like the dog had made so I did not pay any attention. Suddenly, the horses became uneasy. When I went to see what the trouble was, I was struck a blow on the side of my head. It was not too hard a blow and only made me a little dizzy. As I shook off the shadows from my brain, I spotted a small group of warriors who were cutting some of our best ponies loose from the herd. Then I called for Blind Dog and started after the raiders. By the time I had reached the place the raiders had been, they were already heading back into the night, driving several of our ponies before them. I quickly mounted a pony and started to chase the thieves, but I lost them in the darkness. Perhaps I was closer to them than I realized because they let some of the stolen ponies go. I have been able to round up some of the ponies, but I believe there are still a few missing. I will mount up again and start after them immediately.â€
But Chief Great Owl stopped Deerfoot with a wave of his hand and said, “No, Deerfoot, let some of the other braves round them up. You are hurt and need rest. But first we must speak with Blind Dog. Who has seen Blind Dog?â€
Without any hesitation, Blind Dog stepped from the circle of braves and stood next to Deerfoot.
“You summoned me, Chief Great Owl?†he asked politely.
“Blind Dog, were you on herd guard duty tonight with Deerfoot?â€
“Yes, Great Chief, I was.â€
“When Deerfoot called you to assist him, why did you not answer?â€
“Because I was not where I could hear Deerfoot.â€
“Where were you then?â€
“When Deerfoot called for help, I was in my tepee just about to go off to sleep.â€
Great Owl glared at Blind Dog. “Do you mean that you had left your guard post to sleep in your tepee, leaving Deerfoot here alone to watch the herd?â€
Black Dog waited for his son to answer. “Speak, my son,†he pleaded. “Tell Great Owl that you did not desert your friend and leave him alone on duty.â€
“I am sorry, father, but what he says is true. I was not at my guard post when the raiders came in the night. I did neglect my duty and for that I shall take proper punishment.â€
“My son,†Black Dog said with great sorrow in his voice, “do you know what you are saying? You are admitting that you have shirked your duty. Is guarding the herd not important to the whole tribe?â€
“Yes, father, it is very important. I am ashamed of what I have done.â€
Great Owl ordered Blind Dog to be held under guard until the council should decide his punishment.
Quietly, Blind Dog went with the guards. He glanced back toward Deerfoot, but Deerfoot would not meet his gaze. Dropping his head upon his chest, Blind Dog was troubled that Deerfoot had avoided looking at him. He was worried, too, about why Deerfoot had not told the rest of the story—how Deerfoot had insisted that he go to his tepee when he had felt ill. Then he guessed that Deerfoot must have had a good reason, so Blind Dog would not change his friend’s story unless he really had to. He vowed, however, that he would try to speak with Deerfoot and discover for himself just why Deerfoot had not told them the whole story.
The tepee in which Blind Dog was held under guard was close to the center of the village where the council had met. Suddenly, he heard many voices talking excitedly and realized that the council had gathered again. What had been a calm council before had now become an angry group of men seeking revenge upon the horse stealers. He heard Deerfoot repeating his story and the chieftains questioning him closely. Above all they wanted to know of what tribe the raiders were members. Then he could hear Deerfoot reply vaguely, “It was dark and I was still confused from the blow upon my head. I would not want to accuse any tribe unless I were sure. But who could be this close to us?â€
Many of the chiefs shook their heads in doubt, but Sleeping Bear rose to plead for war, repeating by his own son’s account of the stealing of fine horses by a neighboring tribe.
Crouched in the tepee, Blind Dog realized now why Deerfoot had not told the complete story. Rushing to the entrance of the tepee, he begged the guards to take him before Chief Great Owl and the council. One of the guards ran to the council and reported the prisoner’s mysterious request. Chief Great Owl said that Blind Dog should be permitted to enter the council ring and speak to the council.
With head held high, Blind Dog stepped to the center of the ring and gazed around at the unfriendly eyes which peered at him from faces of stone. Finally Blind Dog spoke.
“Since I was but a tiny boy holding tightly to my father’s hand so that I would not stumble, I have been taught to respect the property of others. I have been taught to honor my parents and the elders of our tribe. I have been taught to learn well the many things a good brave should learn. Above all, I have learned the power of truth.
“My father has told me many times that I would never gain by telling a lie. I have seen the truth of this often. Now, more strongly than ever, I see the power that truth can have. I wondered a while ago why Deerfoot had not told the whole story, but now I know.
“Yes, we were on guard duty together, as he told you, and we did hear a noise after that of the dog. We circled the herd to see that all was well. Upon returning to our starting place, I told Deerfoot that I was not feeling well. I had suddenly become chilled and sick to my stomach. Deerfoot reminded me that it was almost time for us to be relieved, but that I should go immediately to my tepee to rest. He said that he would be glad to stand guard alone. I realized that what I did then was wrong, but I felt so sick that I followed Deerfoot’s suggestion and went to my father’s tepee. There I rolled myself in a buffalo blanket and lay in pain for some time until I, too, heard Deerfoot’s shouts and the hoofbeats of the horses running away from our camp.
“I, too, rushed to the herd and reached there a short time before most of you. I looked around quickly for signs that would show how many raiders there had been. But oh, Great Chieftain, there were no tracks of any ponies other than our own.
“Deerfoot has used this story to try to arouse our tribe to a war. He thirsts for the excitement that fighting would bring him. Now I am sure that Deerfoot ran those ponies off himself in order to cause a war between our tribe and our nearest neighbors. If I am lying now, punish me doubly; but if I am right, let the punishment fall where it belongs, even upon my friend.â€
Great Owl rose and called upon Deerfoot to defend himself. All eyes were turned in his direction as Deerfoot rose to face Blind Dog.
“Oh, Great Chief,†said Deerfoot, “all that Blind Dog has told you is true. I sent him from the herd and I ran the ponies off into the night. I made the wound that you see on my head. We had no raiders in our camp tonight. Blind Dog has just taught me the true meaning of loyalty to my tribe.