The Project Gutenberg eBook ofYoung Crow RaiderThis ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online atwww.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook.Title: Young Crow RaiderAuthor: Francis Lynde KrollIllustrator: Charles GeerRelease date: March 15, 2019 [eBook #59069]Language: EnglishCredits: Produced by Stephen Hutcheson and the Online DistributedProofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK YOUNG CROW RAIDER ***
This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online atwww.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook.
Title: Young Crow RaiderAuthor: Francis Lynde KrollIllustrator: Charles GeerRelease date: March 15, 2019 [eBook #59069]Language: EnglishCredits: Produced by Stephen Hutcheson and the Online DistributedProofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
Title: Young Crow Raider
Author: Francis Lynde KrollIllustrator: Charles Geer
Author: Francis Lynde Kroll
Illustrator: Charles Geer
Release date: March 15, 2019 [eBook #59069]
Language: English
Credits: Produced by Stephen Hutcheson and the Online DistributedProofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK YOUNG CROW RAIDER ***
FRANCIS LYNDE KROLLYOUNGCROWRAIDERILLUSTRATED BY CHARLES H. GEERGROSSET & DUNLAPNEW YORK
FRANCIS LYNDE KROLL
ILLUSTRATED BY CHARLES H. GEER
GROSSET & DUNLAPNEW YORK
Copyright 1954 by Lantern Press, Inc.By arrangement with Lantern Press. Inc.
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOG NUMBER: 54-10746PUBLISHED SIMULTANEOUSLY IN CANADA BYGEORGE J. MCLEOD, LIMITED, TORONTOMANUFACTURED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
TOV H KF L K
Bent Arrow drove himself forward with all his strength. For a few steps he seemed to be closing the gap between himself and the two older boys ahead. The next moment the old pain beat up through his right leg. He had to choke back a gasp as he nearly stumbled.
He forced himself to keep running, although the pain had slowed him so much that the two ahead were rapidly outdistancing him. From the corner of his eye, he saw Sly Fox and Laughing Deer draw even with him and try to pass. In spite of the pain in his leg, Bent Arrow wasn’t going to be last. He lunged forward, barely managing to cross the finish line ahead of the other two.
As soon as he had crossed the line, Bent Arrow turned toward the crowd of warriors surrounding the winner. The warriors were so close to the runner that Bent Arrow couldn’t see who it was. Then he caught sight of Running Elk standing at one side, so he knew that Lone Eagle was the winner.
Bent Arrow saw his uncle, Flying Arrow, at the edge of the circle of warriors. He turned in that direction. He had to grit his teeth to keep from limping, but he was determined that his uncle shouldn’t think he was using his injured leg as an excuse for not winning.
“I’m sorry you have to be ashamed because I can’t win a race,” Bent Arrow said as soon as he was beside his uncle.
“Ashamed!” Flying Arrow exclaimed. “I’m not ashamed. I’m proud that you were able to beat two runners as good as Sly Fox and Laughing Deer. Running Elk and Lone Eagle are a summer older than you. When you are in your fourteenth summer, you will be an even better runner.”
Bent Arrow gulped and bent his head. Only girls cried. Certainly a boy of thirteen summers didn’t, but Flying Arrow’s unexpected praise had brought tears very close to Bent Arrow’s eyes.
“When your leg is completely healed, you’ll be one of the best runners in the whole Crow Nation,” Flying Arrow went on. “You are much improved since your last race.”
“I’ll keep practicing,” Bent Arrow vowed.
“Clawing Bear wants to see you,” Flying Arrow told him.
Bent Arrow glanced at his uncle’s face. He could see nothing there to tell him what the medicine man wanted. Was he to hear bad news about his leg? He would have liked to ask Flying Arrow why the medicine man wanted to see him, but Crow boys were not expected to ask questions.
“I’ll go now,” he agreed.
He turned from his uncle and went past the warriors who were still gathered around Lone Eagle, and on toward the camp. It wasn’t a large camp. There were only about twenty tepees, set up in two irregular lines. This was a hunting party out to lay in a supply of buffalo meat for the winter which was not too far away. The hunters had brought their squaws along. The women would take care of curing and drying the meat that the hunters brought.
The medicine man’s tepee was the last one in the back row and was placed a little apart from the others. Clawing Bear was sitting in front of his tepee.
“Come in, Bent Arrow,” Clawing Bear invited, getting slowly to his feet.
Bent Arrow followed the medicine man into the tepee. Clawing Bear sat near the fire and motioned Bent Arrow to sit beside him. The boy sat quietly while the medicine man selected a pipe, filled it, and lighted it with a brand from the fire. Clawing Bear inhaled deeply, and slowly blew the smoke to the east. After a pause, he took a second puff and blew it to the south. In the same way he blew smoke to the west and to the north. Then he laid the pipe aside.
“You ran a good race today,” he said.
“I didn’t know you were watching,” Bent Arrow answered.
“I don’t miss many races,” Clawing Bear replied with a smile. “I am pleased that you are running better.”
“Your treatment is making my leg better,” Bent Arrow explained. “That is why I am able to run faster.”
“It is about your leg that I wanted to talk with you,” Clawing Bear told him.
Bent Arrow held himself as motionless as possible while the medicine man again filled the pipe and again blew smoke in the directions of the four winds.
“When you were very small, only in your second summer,” Clawing Bear finally began, “your parents took you with a hunting party like this one. One day, when most of the hunters were gone, the Sioux attacked the camp. There were not enough Crow warriors in camp to protect it. When Flying Arrow and the other hunters returned, they found the camp destroyed and, apparently, everyone in it slain.”
The medicine man stared silently at the fire for a long time.
“It was while the hunters were holding the death ceremonies for our people,” Clawing Bear resumed, “that Flying Arrow found you. Your right leg was badly injured. Your uncle set it as carefully as he could. Several Crow warriors looked at you. Each of them shook his head.
“‘It would be better for the small boy to follow his parents to the Happy Hunting Grounds,’ one of the warriors told your uncle.”
Clawing Bear stopped and looked at Bent Arrow.
“The lot of a cripple is bad,” he said gruffly.
Bent Arrow nodded without speaking.
“‘I shall take him to my friend, Clawing Bear, the medicine man,’ your uncle told them.
“He did. I have given you every treatment handed down by Crow medicine men since the Great Spirit walked on earth and taught warriors how to live. Your uncle has seen that you have had every needed exercise. Today you outran two fine racers. The Great Spirit has been kind to you.”
“I am grateful to you and my uncle, too,” Bent Arrow said. “How can I ever repay you?”
“When you are completely cured, we shall be repaid,” Clawing Bear answered.
Apparently the medicine man had completed his story, but he didn’t make the sign of dismissal. Bent Arrow waited.
“I have had a medicine dream about you,” Clawing Bear resumed. “Not all of it was clear. However, there will be trouble with the Sioux. You and Flying Arrow will be in great danger. There was something about an eagle or an eagle feather, it wasn’t clear which. Yet I saw you running swiftly. I saw that your leg was well.”
Bent Arrow’s face glowed. He hardly heard the words about danger. The medicine man’s dream meant that he would be well. Already he could see himself winning a great race and earning a new name much better than Bent Arrow.
“How are you doing with your swimming lessons?” Clawing Bear interrupted his thoughts.
Bent Arrow shivered at the memory of the morning’s icy dip. There hadn’t actually been ice on the water, but there had been frost on the grass along the path to the river. Crow boys were required to swim every day until the ice on the river was too thick to be broken.
“I swim well,” Bent Arrow explained, “but my diving isn’t very good. The other boys ducked me again this morning.”
Clawing Bear nodded understandingly.
“Keep practicing,” he advised. “It won’t be long until you dive well enough so that the boys will have no excuse to duck you.”
“I don’t know why it is so hard for me to learn to do things,” Bent Arrow said, with a touch of complaint in his voice. “My uncle does everything well.”
“Your uncle learned the same way you are learning,” Clawing Bear answered sharply. “Every Crow is expected to do his best. See that you are a good Crow.”
“I’ll do my best,” Bent Arrow promised.
Clawing Bear made the sign of dismissal. Bent Arrow got to his feet and stepped out of the tepee. He looked about the camp to see what the other boys were doing. There were two younger boys playing near one of the tepees, but Bent Arrow could see none of the boys of his own age. He remembered that they had planned to hunt rabbits. He knew where they would be hunting, but it was too late to join them. The sun was so warm that Bent Arrow decided this would be a good time to practice diving. He hurried through the camp and along the path to the river.
Usually, the chief in charge of a hunting party selected a place along the river for a camp. Chief Barking Wolf had chosen a place near a spring and back a short distance from the river. Bent Arrow went to the top of the low hill which was between the camp and the river. As soon as he was at the top of the hill, he began to run. He raced to the riverbank, leaped high, and dived into the water. It was a clean dive, barely making a splash.
“If I dive that well tomorrow, the other boys won’t get to duck me,” he thought, as he rose to the surface.
He climbed out of the river, went up the hill, and again made a running dive. This was a good dive, too. He climbed up onto the bank and rested. The camp swimming teacher had been urging the boys to practice swimming under water. Bent Arrow decided that he would make one more practice dive. If it proved as good as the others, he would see how far he could swim under water.
To make the practice more fun, he pretended that he was escaping from enemies. When he was ready to dive, he bent low and ran as hard as he could. His dive carried him well out into the river. He knifed into the water with no more splash than a jumping fish would have made. He held his breath and swam under water with the current. He stayed under until it seemed his lungs would burst. At last he let his head rise above the surface enough so that he could breathe. While he gulped fresh air, Bent Arrow’s eyes were measuring the distance he had covered. He had swum much farther under water than he had supposed he could. Keeping up his game of escape, he sank below the surface again.
The next time he was forced to raise his head, he found that he was below the first bend. That was almost as well as a warrior could do. He noticed a clump of brush overhanging the river near him. If he really were a warrior trying to escape from enemies, that would be the place to leave the water. He swam toward the shore and managed to grasp one of the low-hanging branches. Carefully he pulled himself out of the water onto the bank. He crept behind the clump of brush and stretched out to rest.
Bent Arrow lay still, letting the sun warm and dry him. As long as he pretended that enemies were following him, it was easy for him to lie quiet. Suddenly he heard a faint splash which sounded as though it might be near the other bank of the river. He was almost certain that the splash had been made by a jumping fish, but an escaping warrior would neglect no precaution. Cautiously Bent Arrow raised his head until he could see between the branches of the sheltering bush. He jerked his head down as suddenly as though he were ducking an arrow. He had seen a Sioux warrior bending down to drink on the other side of the river.
Bent Arrow raised his head until he could see
Bent Arrow raised his head until he could see
Bent Arrow knew that he must carry a warning to camp. Sioux warriors this near a Crow camp meant danger. He turned his head enough to look at the wide space of sand which divided his hiding place from the shelter of the trees. If he tried to dart across there, the Sioux warrior was sure to see him.
Carefully he raised his head again to look across the river. Now there were three Sioux drinking at the river, and one standing behind them looking straight at Bent Arrow. Bent Arrow had to fight down the impulse to jump and run for camp. If the Sioux hadn’t already seen him, a sudden movement would reveal him. Evidently the Sioux hadn’t noticed him. The warrior’s glance passed on along the riverbank. A moment later the three Indians got to their feet, and all four of them slipped silently into the brush which lined that side of the river.
Bent Arrow watched until his neck muscles became so cramped that he had to move. Slowly he lowered his head and stretched out flat. When the pain in his neck had stopped, he again raised his head and looked across the river. All of the time that he watched the other shore, he was torn between the fear that he was delaying too long and the fear that if he moved too soon the Sioux would see him. At last he decided it was time for him to start.
Slowly he edged away from the sheltering clump of brush. He kept flat on his stomach and wriggled across the wide stretch of sand. When he reached the trees, he crawled a short distance among them. Then he got to his feet and dashed to the Crow camp. He raced straight to the tepee of his uncle.
The flap of the tepee was pulled shut. Flying Arrow was asleep or he was making medicine. A Crow warrior should not be disturbed, but Bent Arrow knew that his message was too important to be delayed.
“Uncle,” he called urgently, “there are Sioux warriors on the other bank of the river.”
Before Bent Arrow had finished speaking, Flying Arrow stepped out of the tepee.
“How many?” Flying Arrow asked.
Bent Arrow held up his right hand with the thumb doubled under.
“That is all I saw,” he answered. “They were at the first bend of the river.”
“Stay here,” Flying Arrow ordered and trotted off along the line of tepees.
A few moments later, Flying Arrow led a small band of warriors out of camp. Before that band had gone far, a party of mounted warriors, with Chief Barking Wolf at the head, rode out of camp circling toward the land of the setting sun.
Bent Arrow waited impatiently for word of the pursuit. There was some excitement in camp when the two scouts who had been sent out early that morning returned with the report that they had found a large herd of buffaloes. For a while Bent Arrow forgot his worries and spent his time wondering if he would be allowed to go with the hunters. However, as the afternoon wore on, all of his thoughts were on the warriors who were chasing the Sioux.
The sun was almost down when the two parties of warriors returned to camp. Flying Arrow came straight to his own tepee.
“They escaped,” he told Bent Arrow. “They had horses hidden not far from the river. They heard us coming and got too great a start for our warriors to catch them.”
“Will they be back to try to steal our horses?” Bent Arrow asked.
“Possibly not,” Flying Arrow replied. “Sioux like to make winter camp early. That party may start toward their main camp now.”
While Bent Arrow and his uncle were eating their evening meal, a messenger came to the tepee.
“There is to be a buffalo hunt tomorrow,” the messenger announced. “Bent Arrow has been chosen to help tend the horses.”
Bent Arrow was so excited at the messenger’s words that he could scarcely finish his supper. Although the boys who tended the pack horses during a hunt had a difficult time, there was always a chance that they would get to take part in the hunting, too.
“You’d better crawl into your robes and get a good night’s rest,” Flying Arrow suggested. “Tomorrow will be an exciting day.”
Bent Arrow expected to find it hard to fall asleep, but it wasn’t long after he had crawled into his robes before he dozed off. Soon his sleep was disturbed by a dream. In his dream he and another boy were chasing a buffalo. The other boy rode alongside the buffalo and was drawing his bow for a shot when his horse stumbled. The boy was thrown in front of the charging buffalo. Bent Arrow tried to cry out a warning, and, in trying to call out, he awoke. He immediately told his uncle of his dream.
“I’ll talk to the medicine man,” Flying Arrow said, after a thoughtful silence. “It must be a warning of some kind. I’m sure Clawing Bear will understand it.”
Bent Arrow again dropped off to sleep.
Bent Arrow was awake early the next morning. He crawled out of his buffalo robes and dressed quickly. There was a little twinge of pain in his right leg, but he knew that would be gone as soon as he had walked a few paces. He was eager for the swimming teacher to give the call for practice. He was sure that today he would dive as well as any of the boys.
When he stepped out of the tepee, he lost some of his eagerness. There was a light covering of snow on the ground. Before he had a chance really to worry about how cold the water would be, Bent Arrow heard the call of the teacher and saw the boys forming a line. He trotted over and took his place.
When it was Bent Arrow’s turn to dive, he dashed forward, leaped high, and went into the water with scarcely a splash. He came up gasping and sputtering, but smiling. He had made a good dive. He wouldn’t be ducked today.
Sly Fox was the only boy to make a poor dive. Four boys grabbed him and shoved his head under water. Fortunately for Sly Fox, all of the boys were eager to get out of the cold water. They let him up almost at once. As soon as the last boy had dived, the teacher dismissed them. Bent Arrow was glad to get out of the cold water and race back to the tepee.
As soon as they had eaten, Bent Arrow and his uncle went to the corral. Flying Arrow caught his best buffalo horse to ride on the hunt. Bent Arrow hoped that he would be given one of the faster horses, too. Instead, Flying Arrow caught Rock, one of the oldest and slowest of his horses, for Bent Arrow to ride.
“Rock is dependable,” Flying Arrow explained. “He’ll make your work easier and safer.”
Bent Arrow mounted Rock and helped his uncle drive two other horses out of the herd to be used as pack animals. Other boys and warriors were busy at the same task. For a time there was great confusion as the riders worked to drive the horses they wanted and at the same time make sure none of the others got out of the corral. As soon as Flying Arrow’s two horses were out of the corral, Bent Arrow was left to watch them while the warrior went back to help the others.
Even after all of the horses to be used were out of the corral, it was considerable work to hold them together in a herd. At last the pack horses were quiet enough so that the party could start. Chief Barking Wolf ordered the warriors to watch the horses while he gave the boys their instructions. At his signal the boys gathered around him.
“Each of you is to be given one good hunting arrow,” he told them.
The boys exchanged triumphant glances. They had been afraid that they would be given the job of watching the pack horses all of the time and wouldn’t be allowed to hunt. The leader’s next words brought looks of disappointment to the boys’ faces.
“You are to keep the arrows as proof that you have been on a buffalo hunt,” Chief Barking Wolf continued, “but you are to do no hunting. A dream has warned us that the Great Spirit does not want boys to hunt buffaloes today.”
Bent Arrow was given an arrow by one of the warriors, while other warriors handed arrows to each of the other boys. If he hadn’t been so badly disappointed about not being allowed to hunt, Bent Arrow would have been highly elated at receiving the arrow. It was a fine one, probably the best one in the warrior’s quiver. There was a sharp stone head on it, and the arrow had been carefully balanced. Even a poor hunter should be able to kill a buffalo with so fine an arrow.
When each boy had received his arrow, Chief Barking Wolf sent them back to watch the pack horses. The warriors fell into line behind the leader, each one in the place that had been assigned to him. As soon as all were ready, Chief Barking Wolf rode to the head of the party and led toward the rising sun.
It was now that Rock proved Flying Arrow’s wisdom in selecting him for Bent Arrow. The pack horses seemed to want to go anywhere except where the warriors were going. First one horse would try to break out of the herd and then another. Every time one tried to break away, Rock was there to head him off. He acted as though he could guess when a horse was going to try to get away.
“I was feeling sorry for you when Flying Arrow gave you Rock to ride,” Sly Fox admitted. “Now I see that you are lucky he did. Rock is making the work easier for all of us.”
For a time the boys had to give all of their attention to controlling the herd of pack horses. But, by the time the party was well out of sight of the camp, Rock had so discouraged the would-be runaways that the whole herd was moving steadily after the warriors. This gave the boys a chance to ride in pairs and talk together, as the sun climbed steadily in the sky and melted the thin blanket of snow.
“The sun is mad at Old-Man-of-the-North for sending snow so early,” Bent Arrow told Sly Fox.
“Yes,” Sly Fox agreed. “He has taken away all of the snow. The sun is powerful.”
“Old-Man-of-the-North is tricky,” Bent Arrow remarked. “Sometimes he sends snow when we aren’t ready for it. Other times he won’t send it when we want it.”
“I hope that he sends much snow as soon as we have plenty of buffalo meat and are in our winter camp,” Sly Fox exclaimed. “We need snow for our winter games.”
Bent Arrow nodded his agreement. Indian boys always had fun, but winter was the best time for games. It was a good time to learn new things, too. The warriors had leisure to teach the boys how to make bows and arrows. There were always stories to be told of battles and great heroes.
The sun was not yet overhead when Chief Barking Wolf stopped the hunting party in a small valley. He pointed to the low hills ahead.
“The herd of buffaloes is in a large valley across those hills,” he announced. “The hunters will ride across the hills and you boys will stay here with the pack horses. Wild Wind will be the last warrior. He will stay at the top of the hill until the rest of us have started to run the buffaloes. Then he will signal for you boys to bring the pack horses.”
As the warriors rode ahead, the boys were kept busy holding the pack horses in a herd. It was almost as much work keeping the herd from following now as it had been before to get it started. Sometimes, when one of the pack horses broke out of the herd, Bent Arrow was tempted to pretend that he couldn’t turn it back. If he let the horse go to the top of the hill, Bent Arrow would be where he could watch all of the excitement of the hunt. He was ashamed of the thought. A Crow boy who expected to become a warrior should do his best to carry out orders.
Rock seemed to realize that it was up to him to keep his rider from trouble. The horse worked even harder than he had before. It wasn’t long until the pack animals realized that they couldn’t escape as long as Rock was watching them. They quieted and began to graze.
Sly Fox rode over beside Bent Arrow.
“I’m going to ride over there and shoot a buffalo,” Sly Fox told Bent Arrow, speaking low so the other boys couldn’t hear him.
“Don’t do it,” Bent Arrow warned. “Chief Barking Wolf will have you punished. You know how warriors are punished when they disobey orders on a hunting trip. You will be whipped in front of the whole camp.”
“The punishment will be forgotten if I kill a buffalo,” Sly Fox retorted.
“That won’t—,” Bent Arrow began, but at that moment Wild Wind gave the signal for the boys to bring the pack horses.
Bent Arrow and Sly Fox were in front of the herd. They turned their horses and led the way. The horses followed readily. At the top of the low hill, the boys paused to watch the hunt.
From their place, the boys could see far out over the wide valley. Truly the scouts had found a great herd of buffaloes. The attack of the hunters had started the herd running, but even yet a fourth of the valley was covered with buffaloes lumbering in flight ahead of the hunters. Many lay where the hunters’ arrows had slain them.
Bent Arrow noticed that the hunters were riding into the herd, selecting the younger animals. As the boys watched, one old buffalo broke from the herd, turned back, and started running up the hill.
“Here’s my chance to get a buffalo,” Sly Fox shouted excitedly.
“Stay here,” Bent Arrow warned. “We are forbidden to hunt.”
If Sly Fox heard the warning, he was too excited to heed it. He kicked his heels against his horse’s side and started it running to the right so that he could turn and get behind the buffalo. Bent Arrow hesitated. If he rode after Sly Fox, the warriors might think that he, too, was disobeying orders. He remembered his dream of the night before. The next moment he sent Rock racing after the other horse. He had to stop Sly Fox before it was too late. Rock tried his best, but it wasn’t good enough. Sly Fox’s horse had carried its rider alongside the buffalo while Rock and Bent Arrow were still several paces behind.
Sly Fox had his bow ready. He leaned toward the buffalo, taking careful aim. As Sly Fox drew the bow back, the buffalo swung its head wildly. Sly Fox’s startled horse dodged aside, missed his footing, stumbled, and fell. Sly Fox jumped clear of the falling horse, his bow flying out of his hands as he lit. He leaned over to grab the bow. Bent Arrow shouted a warning. The buffalo had hesitated a moment as though it were completely confused. Now it charged at Sly Fox. Sly Fox glanced toward his horse, but the buffalo was between them. The boy turned and ran.
When the buffalo hesitated, it gave Rock a chance to close the gap between them. As the buffalo turned to charge at Sly Fox, Rock whirled to follow. Bent Arrow’s heart stood still as he felt the horse’s hoofs slip on the wet grass. Somehow Rock kept from falling. In two strides the horse was alongside the crazed buffalo. One more jump and the buffalo would be upon Sly Fox. Bent Arrow leaned toward the buffalo, took quick aim, and fired the arrow for the point just back of the buffalo’s foreleg. It was a good shot. The arrow sank in to the shaft, but it seemed to have no effect on the buffalo. The animal leaped forward. Its head struck Sly Fox and sent him flying. The buffalo half turned to charge again and then suddenly slumped to the ground and lay still.
{Bent Arrow leaned toward the buffalo and fired the arrow}
{Bent Arrow leaned toward the buffalo and fired the arrow}
Before Bent Arrow could reach him, Sly Fox jumped to his feet.
“You saved my life, Bent Arrow!” Sly Fox exclaimed.
“Are you all right?” Bent Arrow demanded anxiously.
“I seem to be,” Sly Fox answered.
Two warriors came dashing up to the boys. Bent Arrow’s heart sank when he saw that one of the warriors was Chief Barking Wolf. The chief looked sternly at Bent Arrow.
“I gave orders that no boy was to hunt buffaloes today,” he said sternly.
Bent Arrow hung his head. For a moment he had hoped that he would make his uncle happy by acting bravely; instead, he had brought disgrace because he had disobeyed orders.
“It was my fault,” Sly Fox explained quickly. “I hunted the buffalo. Bent Arrow killed it to save my life.”
“Explain,” Chief Barking Wolf ordered gruffly.
Sly Fox told of how he had chased the buffalo and how his horse had fallen.
“If Bent Arrow and his horse hadn’t acted quickly, the buffalo would have killed me,” Sly Fox finished.
Chief Barking Wolf turned toward Bent Arrow.
“You did well,” he praised, a smile replacing the stern look on his face. “I like an almost-warrior who doesn’t make excuses. A good Crow knows when orders must be disobeyed.”
Bent Arrow felt a lump rising in his throat as it had done when his uncle praised his running. He bent his head so the chief couldn’t see his face.
Chief Barking Wolf jumped from his horse. He and the warrior stepped over to the slain buffalo. Together they rolled the animal over on its other side. The shaft of the arrow had been broken off as the animal fell on it. Barking Wolf studied the broken arrow for a moment.
“That was a very good shot,” he said, turning toward Bent Arrow, “well aimed, and powerfully driven. But you have lost your good arrow. It is broken.”
“He is to have mine,” Sly Fox said, offering it to Bent Arrow.
Bent Arrow hesitated. The arrow had been given to Sly Fox to keep as a token that he had been on a buffalo hunt. Sly Fox would want it to show to younger boys.
“Take it,” Chief Barking Wolf commanded. “If Sly Fox had not offered it to you, I would have ordered him to break it.”
Chief Barking Wolf mounted his horse.
“You are to go back to camp alone,” he told Sly Fox. “You have disobeyed orders. You are not in this hunting party.”
Without a word, Sly Fox mounted his horse and started back to camp. Bent Arrow felt sorry for his friend, yet he knew that Sly Fox was lucky. Chief Barking Wolf might have ordered a far more severe punishment for the boy’s disobedience.
“Bring the pack horses,” the chief ordered. “The men are ready.”
As many buffaloes as could possibly be taken back to camp had been slain. The hunters had turned back and were butchering the animals. As the boys came to a hunter, they would stop the herd of pack horses and leave those belonging to that warrior. When they came to Flying Arrow, Bent Arrow drove his two horses from the herd and dismounted to help his uncle.
Butchering was done swiftly. The hide was removed and the carcass dressed. The meat was cut into large pieces and then wrapped in the hides to make two bundles. The bundles were laid across the pack horses’ backs in such a way that they balanced each other.
The greatest difficulty was in preparing the head. First the tongue was removed. Every Crow knew that the tongue was one of the best parts of the buffalo. Next the head was cut from the carcass and beaten against a rock until the bone shattered. Then the brain was removed. Crow squaws would need the brain to rub on the underside of the hide. Without it, the hide could not be properly tanned.
Bent Arrow and his uncle were the first to have their buffaloes butchered and the meat loaded on pack horses.
“We’ll take the hide from the buffalo you killed,” Flying Arrow said. “Since killing that buffalo saved the life of a Crow, the hide should be good medicine for you.”
Bent Arrow nodded. Every Crow carried a small pouch in which he had his medicine. The medicine wasn’t carried as something to cure sickness; it was to help guard the warrior from danger. Not all warriors had the same things in their medicine bags. Usually a warrior learned in a dream what he should put in his medicine bag to protect him. In Flying Arrow’s medicine bag there were the claw of a bear, a piece of the fur of a wolf, and a hawk’s feather. In a dream a bear had told Flying Arrow to get a hawk’s feather to carry with a bear’s claw and a piece of wolf fur. It must have been powerful medicine. Since he had had it, Flying Arrow had made many successful raids. Bent Arrow hoped his would prove as powerful.
When Flying Arrow saw the buffalo that Bent Arrow had killed, he seemed pleased.
“Besides the skin, we shall take the buffalo’s heart,” he told Bent Arrow. “It was a brave buffalo. By eating its heart, you will become braver.”
It was a triumphant band of hunters that rode back into camp as the sun was sinking in the western sky. Here was a great supply of meat to be added to the tribe’s winter store. In a few days the hunting party could start back toward the big winter camp of all the Crow tribes.
As soon as the pack horses were unloaded and put back into the corral, Flying Arrow cooked fresh buffalo steaks.
“You must take a gift to Clawing Bear,” he told Bent Arrow. “The medicine man will want to know about your hunting. It may be that he will have found another message in the dream you had last night.”
Flying Arrow selected the choicest tongue, wrapped it carefully, and handed it to Bent Arrow. As he made his way toward the medicine man’s tepee with the gift in his hands, Bent Arrow had the feeling that this was to be a very happy visit for him.
While Bent Arrow was still several paces from the medicine man’s tepee, Clawing Bear called out to him.
“Come in, Bent Arrow, and tell me about the buffalo you killed.”
“How did you know that I had killed a buffalo?” Bent Arrow asked. “Did someone report to you so soon?”
“No,” Clawing Bear answered with a smile. “Sometimes we medicine men see things which others cannot see. Now tell me about it.”
As briefly as he could, Bent Arrow told of Sly Fox’s attempt to shoot a buffalo and how his horse had stumbled.
“My horse deserves more credit than I,” Bent Arrow finished. “By the time I would have thought of what to do, it would have been too late.”
“That’s the way I saw it,” Clawing Bear said, nodding. “Yet you have not received too much credit. You did well.”
The medicine man filled his pipe and lit it with an ember from the fire. He blew smoke to the north, the east, the south, and the west. He laid the pipe aside and stared into the fire as though he were watching some interesting happening. When he spoke, his voice was so low that Bent Arrow had to lean forward to catch his words.
“You were in great danger today,” Clawing Bear told him. “You did not have the proper medicine. When I saw you chasing that buffalo, there was a buzzard soaring above you.”
Bent Arrow shivered. Buzzards were the omen of misfortune. They picked the flesh from slain animals and from warriors who had not been given proper burial.
“I could see that the buzzard was watching you,” Clawing Bear continued. “When you leaned toward the buffalo to shoot your arrow, the buzzard started down. Then I caught sight of an eagle above the buzzard. A feather fell from the eagle’s tail. It passed just ahead of the buzzard’s beak. The buzzard turned and flew away. You must have an eagle’s feather. It is your good medicine to protect you from danger.”
“How am I to get an eagle’s feather?” Bent Arrow asked. “The eagles nest far up on the peaks. Already the snow is deep there.”
“You must have an eagle feather,” Clawing Bear insisted.
Bent Arrow asked no more questions. If Clawing Bear knew the way for him to get an eagle feather, the medicine man would have told him. Before Clawing Bear dismissed Bent Arrow, he examined the boy’s leg.