“My medicine has done all it can,” Clawing Bear said. “You must do much walking and running. I believe that when you have found an eagle feather, you will be cured.”
The next day was a busy one for the boys who had been with the hunters. It was their job to build tripods on which the squaws would hang the buffalo meat to dry and smoke. Sly Fox was not allowed to help. As an added punishment for hunting when he was ordered not to, he was given the task of dragging the heavy buffalo hides to the river where the squaws would tan them.
Bent Arrow worked eagerly. It was good to see the supply of meat being prepared for winter use. Best of all, meat hanging on the tripods meant that tomorrow would come the call for a game of wolves.
Twice during the day, Bent Arrow saw the swimming teacher, but the warrior didn’t speak to him. If he had plans for a game of wolves, the teacher was keeping them to himself. The next morning, at the swimming lesson, Bent Arrow stayed near the teacher, hoping there would be word of the game, but again nothing was said. However, when Bent Arrow had returned to the tepee and was eating his meal, a low whistle sounded. That was the signal for the boys to meet.
Bent Arrow hurried out of the tepee, but as soon as he was outside he moved cautiously. He slipped from his tepee to the next one and on down the line to the last. Here he dropped to his hands and knees and crawled until he had crossed the low hill and was out of sight of the camp.
By the time Bent Arrow reached the meeting place, the teacher and several boys were there. Bent Arrow took his place in the circle of boys. All of them waited for the late-comers.
As soon as the last boy arrived, the teacher began to explain the game of wolves. Although Bent Arrow had heard the explanation before, he listened as intently as the two younger boys who were hearing it for the first time. The teacher gave a brief account of the wolves who were the Crow scouts. He told of the time the wolves had disguised themselves and crawled across the prairie and made a successful attack on a large hunting party of Sioux.
“Today you are the wolves,” he told the boys. “The meat on the tripods represents Sioux horses. The boy who captures the first Sioux horse and the boy who captures the largest one will get these prizes.”
Bent Arrow gave a gasp of elation when the teacher held up two eagle feathers. Here was a simple way to get the medicine which Clawing Bear had said he must have. He was so sure he would win one of the prizes that he almost reached out for it.
“Now disguise yourselves as wolves,” the teacher ordered.
Bent Arrow and the other boys trooped to the riverbank. They dug up handfuls of mud and completely covered themselves with it, even rubbing the mud into their hair. As the mud dried, it took on a grayish tinge so that when the boys crawled through the dry grass their coloring blended with it and they could hardly be seen.
At a signal from the teacher, the boys separated and started toward camp. Bent Arrow circled around the camp to approach the tripods of meat from the far side. If the squaws were expecting a raid, they wouldn’t look for the raiders to come from that direction. When he neared the camp, he got to his hands and knees and crawled.
The row of tripods extended beyond the last tepee in camp. Bent Arrow saw two squaws standing in front of that tepee talking together. He heard one of the squaws say that they should be watching for a magpie raid. The squaws always referred to the boys in the wolf game as magpies, because flocks of magpies often swarmed on the drying meat.
One of the women glanced straight at Bent Arrow. He held himself motionless. It didn’t seem possible that she would fail to see him, but she turned toward her own tepee. Bent Arrow breathed a sigh of relief when the other squaw went on with her work.
Bent Arrow crawled to the first tripod. None of the pieces of meat on it was very large. He looked down the line to the next tripod. There was a large piece hanging on it. Before he crawled ahead, Bent Arrow glanced toward the tepees again. None of the squaws was watching. When he reached the second tripod, he found that the piece of meat wasn’t as large as he had thought. He glanced down the line. There was a much larger chunk on a tripod farther along. Again he made sure that no squaw was watching before he crawled on.
This time he had made no mistake. He had found a large piece of meat, so large, in fact, that it was sure to win the prize. He reached out to take it from the tripod. At that instant there was a loud chatter of talk behind him. He jumped to his feet to run, but he was too late. A squaw grabbed him with a grip too powerful for him to twist loose.
“We’ll find out who this thief is,” the squaw stormed.
In spite of Bent Arrow’s twisting and struggling, he was dragged to the near-by spring. The squaw held him with one hand. With the other she dipped water and splashed it on his face until all of the mud was washed off. By the time that she had finished, she was laughing.
“I see that the magpie is Bent Arrow,” she said with a smile. “Well, grab a chunk of meat and run. Boys will be boys.”
Bent Arrow seized the meat and dashed out of the camp. He was the last boy to get back to the meeting place. A fire had been built, and meat already was roasting over it. The teacher took Bent Arrow’s meat and put it over the fire.
“You captured a truly large piece of meat,” he told Bent Arrow.
Bent Arrow made no reply. He took his place in the circle of boys. He was able to give only part of his attention to the words the teacher was speaking. He had brought the largest chunk of meat. That entitled him to the eagle feather. Still, there was an uneasy doubt in his mind. He thought back to the teacher’s instructions. They had been that a prize went to the one who captured the largest one. Captured—His thoughts were interrupted by the call to food.
The meat was good, and the adventure of having helped get it in a raid added to its flavor. Ordinarily Bent Arrow would have enjoyed it greatly. Now he was so busy with his thoughts that he scarcely noticed its taste. When everyone had eaten his fill, the teacher called for the boys’ attention.
“We’ll have an account of your adventures,” he announced. “Running Elk, you were the first to return with a prize. Tell us how you did so well.”
Running Elk stood up. He told that he had thought of the shortest way to camp. He had taken the risk of running to the first tepee and walking from it to the nearest tripod. It had occurred to him that the squaws would pay no attention to one boy. He had been right. He had grabbed a piece of meat and was away from the camp while the other boys were still crawling toward the tripods.
“You did well,” the teacher praised. “Sometimes it is better to take greater risks in order to catch the enemy unprepared. This eagle feather is the reward for your coup. You may wear it as a warrior would who had counted coup.”
“Thank you,” Running Elk responded, proudly accepting the award.
Several other boys who had returned quickly with their captures were called upon. After them the teacher turned to Bent Arrow.
“You brought the largest piece of meat, Bent Arrow,” he said. “Tell us of your adventure.”
Bent Arrow hesitated. Slowly he shook his head.
“I didn’t capture it,” he admitted. “A squaw captured me. She let me take the piece of meat so I wouldn’t have to return empty-handed. I didn’t win the prize.”
A wave of laughter ran around the circle of boys as Bent Arrow hung his head. A stern look from the teacher stopped the laughter.
“Since the meat was a gift, you did not earn the prize,” he agreed. “However, you have shown yourself to be a good Crow by refusing to take an unearned reward. If I had another prize, you should have it.”
The teacher turned to Sly Fox.
“Yours was next in size,” he said. “Tell of your adventure.”
Sly Fox admitted that he had been lucky. He had selected the largest piece of meat on the first tripod that he came to. He had wanted to look farther for a larger piece, but as several squaws were moving about the tepees, he had decided to take that piece and get away. He was glad that he had won the prize.
“You did well,” the teacher said. “This eagle feather is yours to be worn as proudly as a warrior who has counted coup.”
“Thank you,” Sly Fox responded as he accepted the prize.
He turned to face Bent Arrow.
“I want to give this coup feather to you, Bent Arrow,” he said, “not only because you have proved yourself a good Crow, but also because you saved my life.”
Bent Arrow gave a gasp of pleasure. He was to have the eagle feather which Clawing Bear said he needed for his medicine bag. He reached out his hand to accept it but, at the last moment, drew his hand back.
“I can’t accept it,” he pointed out. “People would see it and think that I had won the prize.”
The teacher nodded his approval.
“We’ll rest a while,” the teacher announced. “Then we’ll swim to wash off the mud. That will be the end of our game.”
Bent Arrow was the first to dive into the water, and Sly Fox was not far behind him. The two boys scuffled for a time, each trying to duck the other. Bent Arrow managed to get a lucky hold and was able to shove Sly Fox’s head under the water. When Bent Arrow released him, Sly Fox came sputtering to the surface. He laughingly swam a few strokes away from Bent Arrow, but a moment later he swam close again.
“There are Sioux warriors on the other bank,” he whispered. “One of them moved just as I got my head out of water.”
Bent Arrow just managed to keep from glancing toward the other bank. A look in that direction might have warned the hidden Sioux that they had been seen.
“Let’s swim to the teacher and tell him so that he can call the boys from the water,” Sly Fox suggested.
“We’d better pretend that we are still playing,” Bent Arrow warned. “The Sioux will suspect any strange actions.”
Sly Fox nodded and made a sudden dash at Bent Arrow. Bent Arrow swam away as rapidly as he could. Anyone watching would have thought that it was an accident that Bent Arrow swam so close to the teacher.
“Sly Fox saw Sioux warriors on the other bank,” Bent Arrow whispered, as he swam near the teacher.
“Keep up your game,” the teacher ordered without glancing toward him.
Obediently Bent Arrow turned and swam back out into the stream. Sly Fox guessed his purpose and swam in pursuit. A few minutes later the teacher whistled the signal for the boys to come out of the water. Bent Arrow and Sly Fox were the last to climb up onto the bank.
“As soon as you are behind the willows, start running to camp,” the teacher ordered in a whisper. “The rest of us will follow later.”
Bent Arrow and Sly Fox walked slowly to the clump of willows. As soon as the brush hid them from watchers on the other bank, the two boys broke into a run. Bent Arrow ran straight to his uncle’s tepee, while Sly Fox ran on to take the warning to Chief Barking Wolf.
This time no warriors were sent on foot. All of them went to the corral for horses. The warriors were divided into two parties, one under Flying Arrow went upstream, while the other under Chief Barking Wolf went downstream. As the warriors rode out of camp, the teacher returned with the other boys.
The sun was still high in the western sky when the warriors returned empty-handed. Bent Arrow took his uncle’s horse to the corral and hurried back to the tepee.
“They got away again,” Flying Arrow said. “We ought to send a party of warriors to punish them.”
That evening the warriors were summoned to a council meeting. Bent Arrow was proud that he was summoned too. When he and his uncle reached the council wigwam, Sly Fox was there. The two boys waited until all of the warriors had entered before they went into the tepee. They sat well back from the circle of warriors. Chief Barking Wolf stood up to speak first.
“We are far from other Crow camps,” the chief said. “We have much meat that we want to get to the winter camp. Since Sioux warriors have twice been seen watching us, it would seem wise for us to break camp quickly and get to our winter grounds where we shall have the help of many Crows.”
Chief Barking Wolf sat down. He picked up the ceremonial pipe. Leaning forward, he picked an ember from the fire and lighted the pipe. He took three puffs before he passed the pipe to Flying Arrow sitting on his right. Flying Arrow took three puffs and passed the pipe on to the next warrior. Slowly the pipe went around the circle of warriors and returned to the chief. He laid it aside carefully. Flying Arrow got to his feet to speak next.
“Barking Wolf has spoken wisely,” Flying Arrow agreed. “We are far from other Crow warriors. Yet it is bad to allow the Sioux to spy on our camp, to make plans to steal our horses and take our scalps. They should be punished. I believe we should send a party of warriors to teach those Sioux a lesson.”
Bent Arrow expected to hear shouts of approval come from the circle of warriors. Instead, the warriors sat silently looking into the fire. Again Chief Barking Wolf lit the pipe and started it around the circle. When it came back to him, he carefully put it in its wrappings. This was a sign that any warrior who wished to speak would now be heard.
Some of the warriors did speak. A few thought that the Sioux should be punished, but all of them agreed with Chief Barking Wolf that there should be a larger party of Crows before the attempt was made.
“Then I shall go alone,” Flying Arrow told the warriors. “I’ll take some of their horses. The Sioux must be punished.”
Some of the warriors tried to convince Flying Arrow that he should wait until a large war party could be sent against the Sioux. To all urgings, Flying Arrow shook his head.
“Soon Old-Man-of-the-North will send snow,” he insisted. “Then we’ll have to wait until spring.”
“It would be better if we could spare a warrior to go with you,” Chief Barking Wolf said thoughtfully, “but it will take all of our men to get the meat to winter camp.”
As soon as he and Bent Arrow had returned to their tepee, Flying Arrow began to make preparations for his raid against the Sioux. While Bent Arrow helped his uncle, his mind was busy.
“Chief Barking Wolf thinks that you should not go alone,” Bent Arrow suggested.
“It would be much better if two of us could go together,” Flying Arrow agreed. “However, Barking Wolf is right in saying that he can’t spare another warrior from the hunting party.”
“I could go with you,” Bent Arrow pointed out.
Flying Arrow looked at him with surprise. For a moment Bent Arrow thought that his suggestion was going to rouse his uncle’s anger. Then the warrior smiled.
“I should have known that you don’t make words just to hear the sound of them,” he said. “I am proud that you offered to go, but this raid is too dangerous.”
“I would get the exercise which Clawing Bear says I need,” Bent Arrow urged. “I might find an eagle feather, and I can help you by tending the horses.”
Flying Arrow made no answer. Instead, he gave all of his attention to arranging the things he was to take with him. Bent Arrow began to fear that he had talked too much. Evidently he had made his uncle angry. Flying Arrow emptied the arrows from his quiver. Two of them he tossed into the fire. He selected three of the best and handed them to Bent Arrow.
“You may need these,” he said. “There will be hunting to do and perhaps even a fight with the Sioux.”
“Then I am to go with you?” Bent Arrow exclaimed.
“Yes,” Flying Arrow answered, nodding. “I’ll need help, and you need the training. I know you’ll obey orders. When I tell you to stay back from danger, you will do so.”
When everything else was prepared, Flying Arrow filled two small bags with dried buffalo meat.
“There may be times when we don’t dare build a fire,” he explained, handing one of the bags to Bent Arrow.
The next morning, just as the eastern sky was lighting up, Flying Arrow led the way out of camp. He was mounted on his best horse. When he had given Bent Arrow his choice of the horses, Bent Arrow had selected Rock.
Although the ground was white with frost, when they came to the river, Bent Arrow jumped from his horse and swam across. On the other side of the river, he trotted beside his horse until he was thoroughly warmed.
Flying Arrow led the way out of camp
Flying Arrow led the way out of camp
Instead of continuing north to find the Sioux trail, Flying Arrow turned east and selected the easiest route along the riverbank.
“I’m sure the Sioux circled north and later returned to the river,” he explained. “We’ll find their trail before the day is over.”
Several times during the day, Bent Arrow dismounted and trotted along beside his horse. Clawing Bear had said he needed exercise. Bent Arrow was determined to leave nothing undone that would help cure his leg.
The sun was still hanging in the western sky when Flying Arrow stopped. Bent Arrow was worried because they had not found the Sioux trail. Flying Arrow seemed to read his mind.
“The Sioux traveled farther before returning to the river than I expected them to,” he explained. “We’ll camp here. We’ll find their trail soon when we start on tomorrow.”
Bent Arrow tended the horses while Flying Arrow built a fire and cooked the meat they had brought with them. When Bent Arrow returned to the camping spot, he could see his uncle before he could see the tiny campfire. Flying Arrow was taking no chances of a fire or its smoke attracting the Sioux.
It was scarcely daylight the next morning when the two Crows started. Flying Arrow watched the ground closely as he rode along. They had not gone far when he dismounted. When Bent Arrow dismounted to join his uncle, he saw the hoofmarks of several horses.
“The Sioux went to the river to water their horses,” Flying Arrow explained, pointing to the tracks.
“Did they cross the river?” Bent Arrow asked anxiously, thinking that the Sioux might have circled back and attacked the Crow hunting camp.
“Probably not,” Flying Arrow answered. “I’m sure we’ll find their trail a little farther on.”
Flying Arrow started ahead, leading his horse. Bent Arrow followed him. They had gone only a short distance when they came upon the Sioux trail leading from the river.
“It is as I expected,” Flying Arrow said. “The Sioux camped by the river. It looks as though they have given up their plan to raid our camp.”
“Are they on their way to the Sioux winter camp?” Bent Arrow asked.
“I think they are going farther toward the land of the rising sun,” Flying Arrow answered. “Probably they want to hunt before they go to winter camp.”
He studied the trail carefully. Bent Arrow, too, looked at the many tracks. He tried to judge how many warriors were in the hunting party. From the tracks, he decided there had been about as many Sioux as he and Flying Arrow together had fingers.
“There were about this many warriors,” Flying Arrow said, holding up both hands with his fingers spread.
“I thought there were more,” Bent Arrow admitted.
“Some of the hoofprints were made by horses without riders,” Flying Arrow explained. “See, there is a difference in the prints.”
He tried to gauge how many warriors were in the party
He tried to gauge how many warriors were in the party
Bent Arrow looked where his uncle pointed. Some of the hoofmarks were deeper and clearer than others.
“I thought that the deeper prints were made by horses that came at the end of the herd,” Bent Arrow told his uncle.
“That is good trailing,” Flying Arrow praised. “Even some warriors wouldn’t have noticed that there was a difference in the tracks. However, the deeper marks are made by horses carrying riders.”
“Will we catch up with the Sioux today?” Bent Arrow asked.
“Not unless they stop to hunt,” Flying Arrow answered. “They are too far ahead of us.”
When Flying Arrow remounted, he did not follow the Sioux trail. Instead, he stayed on the level ground a short distance from the riverbank. He kept his horse going faster than he had the day before. Several times Bent Arrow dismounted and ran beside his horse. He found that he was able to run farther before his leg began to hurt. The sun had sunk to the top of the western hills when the two Crows again crossed the Sioux trail. Flying Arrow dismounted to study it briefly.
“We are getting close to them,” he gloated. “In a day or two we may be able to make a raid.”
They traveled until dark. Again Bent Arrow cared for the horses while his uncle made camp. This time, when Bent Arrow returned to camp, there was no fire.
“We’ll eat some of the dried meat we brought,” Flying Arrow told him. “The Sioux have sharp noses. Even the smallest fire might give off enough smoke to warn them.”
Bent Arrow glanced around quickly as though expecting to find a Sioux watching from the brush near by.
“They aren’t that close,” Flying Arrow said with a smile. “Probably they are half a sun’s ride ahead of us.”
Bent Arrow knew that the Sioux would have little chance to surprise them. Flying Eagle heard every noise, no matter how slight, and he always knew the meaning of the noise. Nevertheless, he had a feeling of uneasiness as he crawled into his blankets to sleep. The moment that he fell asleep, he dreamed that he saw an eagle soaring overhead. In his dream he followed the eagle, hoping it would drop a feather. He followed the eagle over hills and across a small stream. At last a feather fell from the eagle and floated down. As Bent Arrow was running to get the feather, some sound awakened him.
Although it was still dark, Bent Arrow could see his uncle moving about. Silently Bent Arrow crawled out of his blankets.
“I’m going to scout ahead on foot,” Flying Arrow explained. “It may be that I can reach the Sioux camp.”
“Let me go with you,” Bent Arrow urged.
Flying Arrow shook his head.
“As soon as it is light, you water the horses,” he ordered. “If I’m not back by then, you might hunt near the river for game. We’ll need food.”
After Flying Arrow slipped away into the darkness, Bent Arrow sat on his robe and waited until the eastern sky gave enough light so he could see. He took the horses to the river and let them drink. He found a hidden place where there was plenty of grass for the horses. He returned to the camping place, rolled up the blankets, and hid them. He took a small branch from a tree. With this he brushed the ground until there were no signs of the camp left.
Bent Arrow arranged two sticks to tell his uncle where the horses were in case the warrior was the first to get back to the camping place. He went back on the trail he and his uncle had followed the day before. When he thought that he was far enough from the camping place, he went toward the river. He hunted along the river until he found the place he wanted. It was a clump of willows near the river and along a well-worn trail leading to it.
Bent Arrow had been hidden in the clump of willows only a short time when he caught the faint sound of something coming down the trail. He kneeled, waiting tensely as the sound came nearer. His heart was pounding wildly when a fine buck stepped into view. The deer stopped, lifted its head, and sniffed suspiciously. Evidently it failed to catch Bent Arrow’s scent, because it came on toward the river.
Bent Arrow waited until the buck was a step past him before he fired. The arrow struck the deer just back of the foreleg. The animal crumpled beside the path. There was a scurrying farther back. Bent Arrow knew that the sound was made by other deer which had been following the buck. Their sharp ears had caught the sound, warning them of danger. They were fleeing back up the trail.
Although he wanted to jump up and run over to look at the first deer he had ever shot, Bent Arrow remained hidden in the clump of willows. It was possible that a Sioux warrior would be hunting along the river. As Bent Arrow waited patiently, he felt more and more uneasy. There was an unnatural stillness around him. It wasn’t only that there was no movement along the path, but there was nothing stirring on either side of the river.
As he waited, still crouched on one knee, the awkward position began to make his leg hurt. The pain increased rapidly. It hurt below his knee, where the old injury was, and all the way up his leg. Little beads of sweat moistened his brow. He had to move. As he tensed himself to shift his position without touching a twig or making any other sign of movement, he saw a branch move on the other side of the river.
Bent Arrow almost forgot his pain as his eyes searched the other bank. Another branch moved slightly. A Sioux warrior crawled out to the river bank and leaned down to drink. In his excitement, Bent Arrow had forgotten the pain in his leg. Now it swept over him, and he remembered that it was Sioux warriors who had injured him and made him different from other Crow boys. He took careful aim at the unsuspecting warrior across the stream.
Before he let the arrow fly, Bent Arrow knew it would be a mistake to shoot. If he missed, or if he injured the warrior, or even if his shot was successful, the Sioux would be warned. There would be no chance of Flying Arrow’s plan succeeding. Silently Bent Arrow lowered his bow.
When the Sioux warrior had drunk his fill, he raised his head and listened. Slowly he got to his feet, and his sharp glance swept up and down the river. Bent Arrow was thankful that the deer had fallen to one side of the path where it was hidden from the Sioux’s sight. At last the Sioux slipped back from the river. For a few paces Bent Arrow could follow the warrior’s progress by the slight movement of the underbrush. Soon he could no longer see any sign of movement. He had no way of knowing whether the Sioux had stopped or whether he was moving more carefully. There was nothing to do except wait.
The sun had risen and, to Bent Arrow’s anxious eyes, seemed to be racing up the sky. By this time Flying Arrow would have returned to camp. He would wait for a time, but when Bent Arrow failed to return, Flying Arrow would come to look for him.
Finally Bent Arrow decided that he must take the risk. He crept out of his hiding place and slipped away from the river, keeping near the trail. When he was far enough back from the stream so that no watcher on the other side could see him, he crossed the trail and started back toward the river. He moved carefully. Before he took a step, he glanced ahead to make sure he could avoid touching any branches. When he came near the deer, he dropped to his hands and knees. He crawled the remaining distance.
The deer had fallen in such a way that a clump of brush hid it from the other side of the river. However, it was so close to the brush that it seemed impossible for Bent Arrow to move it without stirring the branches. Carefully he inched the deer away from the brush. He got it away from the brush without causing the branches to move noticeably. It was a long, tedious task, dragging the deer and avoiding the brush and shrubs, but at last Bent Arrow got it to a place well enough hidden that he could lift it to his shoulders.
Instead of going straight toward the camping place, Bent Arrow went due north. When he was at a point directly west of the camp, he hung the deer on a low tree branch. Then he went toward camp.
He had covered about half the distance to the camp, when he caught a slight movement directly ahead of him. He stopped and slowly brought his bow into position.
“It’s all right, Bent Arrow,” Flying Arrow called softly, stepping into view.
Bent Arrow quickly ran to his uncle.
“I have a deer,” he said, “and I saw a Sioux warrior.”
“We’ll get our horses and move farther away before we talk more,” Flying Arrow decided.
When they had their horses, the two Crows rode back to the tree where Bent Arrow had left the deer. Flying Arrow took the deer on his horse. He led the way back over the trail they had followed the day before. The sun was starting down the western sky when Flying Arrow turned north off the trail. After a time he stopped in a small valley. There was a small stream running through the valley. There were trees to furnish concealment and fuel.
It wasn’t until the horses had been tended, the deer properly butchered, and steaks frying over the fire that Flying Arrow had Bent Arrow tell his story. At the end of the story, Flying Arrow nodded his head in approval.
“You did well,” he praised.
“Are we going to raid the Sioux camp tonight?” Bent Arrow asked.
“We are,” Flying Arrow assured him. “I was close to their camp before daylight. Their scouts had found a herd of buffalo across the river. They are hunting today. Tonight they will gorge themselves on buffalo meat. They will sleep so soundly that we will be able to take our pick of their horses. Their chief has two fine ones.”
“Why would that warrior have been at the river alone?” Bent Arrow wondered.
“Probably he had been sent out to watch the herd,” Flying Arrow explained. “He was coming back to join the others.”
“I suppose that is the reason,” Bent Arrow agreed.
“Is your leg better?” Flying Arrow asked. “You carried the deer a long way, and I noticed that you weren’t limping when you came to camp.”
“It is better, although it hurt when I was kneeling in that clump of willows,” Bent Arrow told him. “I hope I can find an ea—. Look, Uncle. Look. There’s an eagle soaring above us.”
Flying Arrow’s glance followed Bent Arrow’s pointing finger.
“Yes, that’s an eagle,” he agreed.
“I must follow it,” Bent Arrow exclaimed. “I’m sure that it will drop the feather I need.”
He told Flying Eagle of his dream. Flying Eagle listened and, at the end, thoughtfully considered what Bent Arrow had told him.
“Since your dream wasn’t finished, it is difficult to tell what it means,” Flying Arrow said. “Still, Clawing Bear said that you must have an eagle feather. It would almost seem that the eagle has been sent here to bring you a feather. Go carefully.”
Bent Arrow picked up his bow and arrows.
“I’ll go down the river to the forks,” Flying Arrow said. “When you return, meet me there. We’ll cross the river after dark.”
“I’ll be back before you’re ready to leave,” Bent Arrow answered confidently. “The eagle isn’t far from us.”
“It’s farther than you think,” Flying Arrow told him. “It is so high in the sky that the distance deceives you. We’ll plan to meet at the forks.”
Bent Arrow had not gone far before he realized that his uncle had been right about how far away the eagle was. The bird seemed to be motionless in the sky, yet Bent Arrow could not see that the distance had lessened. Fortunately he did not have to move carefully. If the Sioux were hunting on the other side of the river, there was no immediate danger from them. Bent Arrow had started at a fast run. Now be slowed his pace so that he would not tire so quickly.
As he neared the river, where the trees were close together, Bent Arrow sometimes lost sight of the eagle. The bird seemed still to be hovering in one spot, but that spot was ahead. When he came to the river, Bent Arrow stopped. He was sure that his uncle hadn’t intended for him to cross the stream. He looked up at the eagle again. It was much closer. Bent Arrow glanced back the way he had come as though considering going back to ask permission before he crossed the river. But the afternoon was far spent. It would take too much time for him to make the trip to camp and return. If he was to get the eagle feather, he must go now.
He slipped quietly into the river and swam across. On the other shore he hid himself in a clump of brush. He listened carefully. The only sounds he heard were made by the movements of wild creatures who lived among the trees. That was good. He glanced up into the sky. The eagle was almost straight above his head.
Although he was eager to get directly under the eagle and wait for it to drop a feather, Bent Arrow didn’t forget caution. He walked carefully avoiding low-hanging branches and dry twigs which might snap if he stepped on them.
As he moved ahead, Bent Arrow continually looked up at the eagle. It wasn’t long until he was directly under the bird. He found a good hiding place and settled himself to wait for a feather to drop. It was tiring, waiting and looking up into the sky. Then, to Bent Arrow’s dismay, the eagle soared south.
Bent Arrow continually looked up at the eagle
Bent Arrow continually looked up at the eagle
Bent Arrow left his hiding place and followed. He was soon far enough from the river so that there were few trees. It would be difficult to hide if danger appeared. Suddenly the eagle changed from its easy soaring to swift flight. Hopelessly Bent Arrow watched it. There was no use to try to follow. Even the swiftest horse couldn’t keep up with that fast-flying bird. A moment later, Bent Arrow’s heart gave a great bound. The eagle had turned and was soaring back toward him.
Although the eagle stopped before it had come all the way back, Bent Arrow’s hopes returned. He could go that much farther. He hurried forward. He came to a hill on which no trees were growing. He started up it swiftly. It looked as though the eagle were almost straight above the top of the hill. Near the top, Bent Arrow remembered his training. He dropped to his hands and knees and crawled. At the top he stretched out to look ahead.
On the other side of the hill was a small valley. There were a few trees growing in a clump on the valley floor. Bent Arrow saw a sparkle which he knew was sunshine reflected from a bubbling spring. This valley would be a fine place for the Sioux to make camp, but there was no sign of them.
As he lay there, Bent Arrow’s ear caught a rumbling sound carried by the ground. It took him a moment to realize what caused the noise. It was the rumble made by a great herd of running buffaloes, and he knew the Sioux must be near.
Again Bent Arrow looked up into the sky. His heart sank when there was no sign of the eagle, but the next moment he saw it again. The bird had soared a short distance toward the river. Now it had turned and was coming back. Bent Arrow gave a cry of triumph when he saw a feather floating from the eagle and dropping toward him.
He leaped to his feet. But while the feather was still high in the air, a breeze caught it and wafted it away from him toward the trees in the valley. Bent Arrow raced toward it. It looked as though the feather was going to lodge in the trees, but another gust of air lifted it over them. As Bent Arrow ran up the hill at the far side of the valley, the feather was just out of reach above his head. A few more steps and he would be able to grab it.
Near the top of the hill, the feather was low enough, but it was so far ahead that Bent Arrow could not quite grasp it. He sprinted forward. The feather barely cleared the top of the hill. Bent Arrow tensed himself to dive for it. Instead, he dropped to the ground. In the valley below him were Sioux warriors butchering the buffaloes that they had killed.
At the moment Bent Arrow saw the Sioux, he also saw the feather lodge against a weed a few steps ahead of him. He dared not crawl down to it. At any moment a Sioux warrior might glance up and see him. He had to crawl back off that hilltop before he was discovered.
Bent Arrow pushed himself back. Each inch that he moved back was torture. Every movement had to be painstakingly careful or it would attract attention. A Sioux warrior looked up from his work and glanced directly at Bent Arrow. Bent Arrow held himself motionless. When the warrior went back to his work, Bent Arrow resumed his backward crawling. When he was finally across the hill, he continued to crawl until he could stand without being seen from the other side. He wanted to run for the shelter of the trees. Instead he walked. A Sioux warrior might catch the thud of running feet.
It was all Bent Arrow could do to keep from running. Step by slow step, he went down the hill and came to the trees. In his mind he had been thinking of the trees as a hiding place. When he reached them, he knew he must go on. Undoubtedly the Sioux would select this spot for their camp. He crossed the valley and climbed the hill at that side, constantly looking back. At the top of the hill, he took one last backward glance. The head of a Sioux horse was just coming into sight at the top of the hill on the other side of the valley. Bent Arrow ducked down out of sight.
He crawled until the hill hid him from the Sioux. The river looked a long way ahead, but now he could run. Sioux warriors on their horses wouldn’t be able to hear the thud of his feet. He sprinted to the nearest tree before looking back. When he did, there was no sign of the Sioux. Evidently they were making camp in the small valley on the other side of the hill.
Not until now had Bent Arrow noticed the throbbing pain in his leg. He slowed his pace to try to ease it, but it was still hurting badly when he came to the river.
The sun had gone down before he reached the river, and darkness was beginning to shadow everything. Bent Arrow slipped into the river and swam across. Strangely, when he crawled out on the bank, the pain in his leg was much less. He turned downstream, staying close to the river as it was lighter there.
“You were gone long,” Flying Arrow said when Bent Arrow joined him at the forks.
“The eagle was farther away than I thought,” Bent Arrow explained.
“Did you get an eagle feather?” Flying Arrow asked.
“No,” Bent Arrow answered. “I almost ran into the Sioux trying to get one.”
He gave Flying Arrow an account of his attempts to get the feather and of his narrow escape from the Sioux. He was surprised to see how discouraged Flying Arrow became as he told the story.
“It would seem best to postpone our raid,” Flying Arrow said in a voice of disappointment. “Not getting the feather must be a warning that the raid would be too dangerous.”
“Perhaps we can get the feather as we go on our raid,” Bent Arrow suggested. “I can find the spot where it is lodged.”
Flying Arrow hesitated. It was plain to see that he was anxious to make the raid, yet he didn’t want to take the added risk of going against the medicine man’s advice.
“You are sure that you can find the eagle feather even in the dark?” he asked.
“I’m sure,” Bent Arrow answered positively.
“Then we’ll make the raid,” Flying Arrow decided. “If we don’t, the Sioux will go unpunished.”