  When Bent Arrow awakened, he brushed the leaves from his face and lifted his head. It was bright daylight. The ground had been covered with a light blanket of snow, but it was no longer storming. The clouds overhead were beginning to break up. At any moment the sun might shine through. Flying Arrow stirred and sat up beside Bent Arrow. “I’ll try to find food for us while you start a fire,” Flying Arrow directed. Bent Arrow searched in piles of leaves until he had gathered an armload of dry sticks. He laid these on the ground. Next he raked together a small pile of dry leaves. He struck a spark on the pile of leaves and blew the sparks to a flame. He added small sticks of dry wood until the fire burned brightly. By the time Flying Arrow returned with a deer which he had killed and dressed, the fire was a mass of glowing coals. While the food was cooking, Bent Arrow’s mind was puzzling with the question of what plan he and his uncle could follow. Probably Flying Arrow would announce that they would start at once to try to rejoin their own hunting party. Bent Arrow thought it likely that the hunters had already started toward the Crow winter camp. Unless he and his uncle could overtake the party, they would have to travel all the distance on foot. “I’m afraid that we will have to walk to the winter camp,” Flying Arrow said, as though he were guessing Bent Arrow’s thoughts. “Everyone will laugh at us,” Bent Arrow replied thoughtfully. “Not only have we failed to capture Sioux horses, but we have lost our own.” “No one will laugh at us,” Flying Arrow assured him. “Many raids are unsuccessful. It will be an almost-victory if the two of us escape so large a Sioux hunting party.” Bent Arrow looked at his uncle in surprise. “The Sioux won’t look for us since the storm, will they?” he asked. “They’re not likely to hunt for us unless”—, Flying Arrow let his voice fall. “You were thinking that we might follow them,” Bent Arrow guessed. “You would like to try one more raid.” A smile briefly touched the corners of Flying Arrow’s mouth. It was quickly replaced by a thoughtful frown. “Our raids have been unsuccessful,” he said gloomily. “The Sioux have strong medicine. Our medicine is weak.” Bent Arrow had forgotten the eagle feather inside his shirt. As he shifted to a more comfortable position, the feather rubbed lightly against his skin. He reached his hand inside his shirt and drew out the feather. “Our medicine was weak,” he agreed, “but it’s strong now. I have the eagle feather.” Flying Arrow started to shake his head. He stopped abruptly. “I noticed yesterday that you did not limp even though we walked and ran a great distance,” he admitted. “The eagle feather may be helping us.” “And Old-Man-of-the-North sent snow to hide our tracks,” Bent Arrow went on. “Our medicine is stronger than the Sioux’s.” “It does seem to be,” Flying Arrow acknowledged. “I must think more about this.” Bent Arrow quickly got to his feet and walked away. He must say no more. Already he had spoken more than a boy should. He noticed that the sun had not kept its promise to break through the clouds. The north wind was damp and chilly; every gust seemed sure to bring more snow. “I hope Old-Man-of-the-North doesn’t send more snow,” Bent Arrow thought to himself. When Bent Arrow left the camp, he crossed the small valley and climbed to the highest point on the hills that divided the valley from the next one. He saw a few buffaloes grazing there. That was proof enough that the Sioux were not near. When Bent Arrow returned to camp, he found Flying Arrow busily dividing the best parts of the deer meat into two packs. “We’ll follow the Sioux two days,” Flying Arrow announced. “If, by that time, we haven’t been able to make a raid, we must turn toward our winter camp.” Bent Arrow wanted to shout his joy at his uncle’s decision. He could feel the Crow war cry climbing up his throat, and he had to clamp his mouth shut to make sure that he didn’t shout. If Flying Arrow noticed Bent Arrow’s excitement, he gave no sign. In a very short time they were on their way, each of them carrying a small pack of meat. When he and his uncle had fled from the Sioux, they had gone southeast and then circled west. Now Flying Arrow was swinging toward the north. Flying Arrow set a fast pace. Several times he cast an anxious look back at Bent Arrow, but the boy was following easily. The weather had changed again. Evidently the sun had remembered its promise. It had chased the clouds away and was busily melting the snow. At midday, when Flying Arrow called a halt, the blanket of snow was gone, with only scattered drifts left. “We’ll cook all of our meat,” Flying Arrow announced. “This will be the last fire we can have until we complete our raid.” As the afternoon wore on, Bent Arrow became more and more uneasy. One of the two promised days was rapidly being spent, and still there had been no trace of the Sioux trail. If Flying Arrow had misjudged the route the Sioux would take, the last chance to make a raid would be gone. To add to Bent Arrow’s troubles, his leg began to ache. The ache increased rapidly until the pain was so great that he could hardly walk without limping. It was the first time the leg had pained him since he had found the eagle feather. Perhaps Clawing Bear had been wrong. Perhaps the eagle feather wasn’t the medicine which would bring victory. Resolutely he put the thought away. Bent Arrow kept his head down and put every effort into walking without a limp. He promised himself that he wouldn’t let Flying Arrow know that his leg was hurting. The warrior would insist on stopping, and that would mean the chance to make the raid was gone. However, Flying Arrow was too intent on finding the best route to glance back. In spite of the pain, Bent Arrow managed to keep going until Flying Arrow stopped beside a small stream. Both Crows drank their fill of the cold water. They made a meal of the cold meat and prepared for the night. The eastern sky was just beginning to light up when Flying Arrow touched Bent Arrow on the shoulder. Hesitantly Bent Arrow got to his feet and took a few careful steps. He was elated to find that there was no pain in his leg. “What has pleased you so much?” Flying Arrow asked, glancing at Bent Arrow’s face. “My leg was hurting me yesterday when we stopped,” Bent Arrow explained. “I was afraid it wasn’t cured. It’s all right now.” He danced a few steps of the Crow war dance to show how completely his leg was healed. “Perhaps we should give up this raid and go directly to the winter camp,” Flying Arrow said thoughtfully. “We could travel slowly. Your leg must not be completely healed or it would not have hurt you yesterday.” “I’m all right,” Bent Arrow insisted. “We don’t want to return to winter camp empty-handed.” Flying Arrow smiled. “You have the determination of a good Crow warrior,” he praised. They made a quick meal of cold meat and set off again. They had gone only a short distance when they came upon the Sioux trail. The trail was plainly marked, although most of the snow had melted since the Sioux had passed. “I think they are going directly to their winter camp,” Flying Arrow said. “They are farther ahead than I had expected.” The Sioux trail led almost due north. For a time it lay in the level valley of the stream. When it left the valley, it followed much rougher ground. There were steep hills surrounding narrow valleys which were little more than canyons. Some of the valleys had wooded streams; others were only a dip in the prairie. In spite of the rough ground, Flying Arrow kept at his swift pace. It wasn’t until the sun was directly overhead that Flying Arrow halted beside a small stream. Both he and Bent Arrow drank. “Does your leg hurt?” Flying Arrow asked, as he got to his feet. “Not at all,” Bent Arrow assured him. “Then we’ll go on at once,” Flying Arrow decided. “We must lose no time if we are to overtake the Sioux.” Now the trail led away from the hills and out onto the open prairie. In every direction the dried grass looked like a great brown sea. The low hills were like rolling waves. Occasionally the two Crows came to a valley where a few trees grew beside a stream. The sun was about halfway down the western sky when they came into a valley which had a larger grove of trees than the others. The nearer they came to the trees, the faster Flying Arrow went, so that he was running at full speed when he reached the trees. “It is as I had hoped,” he called, pointing to the signs of a recent camp. “The Sioux camped here last night.” Bent Arrow felt a wave of triumph. He and his uncle were getting closer to the Sioux. He was to have another chance to take part in a raid against their enemies. “If you can keep traveling, we’ll overtake them tonight,” Flying Arrow assured him. “I can keep traveling,” Bent Arrow answered confidently. Flying Arrow led on at a rapid pace. There was no need to take time to study the trail. The Sioux had been so sure that no one would follow them that they hadn’t tried to hide their trail. It was not quite dark when Flying Arrow stopped and studied the signs with a puzzled frown. “The Sioux stopped here,” he pointed out. “I wonder why?” Bent Arrow crossed to the other side of the trail, carefully studying the marks. “Look, Uncle,” he exclaimed. “Another Sioux joined them here.” Flying Arrow came quickly to Bent Arrow’s side. He studied the hoofprints left by one horse. “It must have been a scout,” Flying Arrow said after he had examined the trail carefully. “He must have been sent out the night before. If we had studied the camping place carefully, we would have seen his trail.” “He came from the direction where our hunting party was camped,” Bent Arrow answered worriedly. Flying Arrow studied the trail left by the one rider. Then he turned his attention to the trail left by the Sioux party as they rode on. He pointed out to Bent Arrow that the scout had stayed with the main party. “He may have brought back news that our hunting party had moved on,” Flying Arrow said. “The Sioux didn’t turn aside. Let’s hurry. We want to follow as far as possible before dark.” Flying Arrow motioned for Bent Arrow to travel at his side. They had gone only a short distance when both of them stopped as though halted by an invisible fence. The Sioux trail turned sharply to the west. “They went that way because it’s easier traveling,” Flying Arrow said. “I think I know where they are camped. We’ll take a shorter route.” Bent Arrow wanted to protest. Perhaps Flying Arrow’s reading of the trail had been wrong. Yet Flying Arrow was following so confidently the diagonal course he had set that Bent Arrow’s doubts began to fade. The light dimmed rapidly. Even after darkness had blanketed the prairie, Flying Arrow kept up his rapid, sure pace. Several times Bent Arrow reached inside his shirt and felt of the eagle feather. Each time he did, his confidence mounted. In the last two days he had traveled as far as a warrior could have gone, and his leg wasn’t hurting at all. Clawing Bear’s prophecy that an eagle feather would complete the cure had come true. His prophecy that it would protect Bent Arrow from the Sioux would surely be equally true. At last Flying Arrow called a halt. “The Sioux were not traveling fast,” he said. “We are near their camp. We’ll rest a while before we try to make a raid.” Bent Arrow looked at his uncle in surprised wonder. Flying Arrow seemed as sure of the Sioux camping place as if he had seen them there. “How can you be sure?” Bent Arrow asked. “I read the signs of the Sioux trail,” Flying Arrow explained. “I know much about the Sioux, and I know the only good camping place for a large party.” Flying Arrow had already fixed a comfortable place to rest. Bent Arrow found a clump of tall, dry grass. He curled up in that to sleep. “I’ll waken you when it’s time to start,” Flying Arrow promised. It seemed to Bent Arrow that he had hardly fallen asleep when he was roused by his uncle. “We’ll make our plans before we start,” Flying Arrow said. Flying Arrow carefully described the place where the Sioux were camped. It was a rather small valley. There was a narrow entrance at the south end, but the rest of the valley was ringed in with steep hills. It wasn’t impossible for horses to get up the hills, but it was difficult and dangerous. There were a spring and a few trees near the north side. That was where the Sioux would be camped. Since the Sioux had no idea anyone was pursuing them, they would leave the horses loose to graze over the valley. “We can slip into the valley, get two horses apiece, and be far from here before the Sioux learn of their loss,” Flying Arrow concluded. “That is small punishment for the trouble they have caused us,” Bent Arrow pointed out. “We should take all of their horses.” “It might be possible,” Flying Arrow agreed excitedly. “If you can catch Rock, this is the plan we’ll use. Truly the Sioux will be punished.” Quickly Flying Arrow outlined his new plan. Bent Arrow nodded from time to time. He could see no flaw. If it worked, the Sioux would be well punished. If it didn’t work, Bent Arrow and his uncle would still get some Sioux horses. He reached inside his shirt and felt of the eagle feather. “Let’s start,” Flying Arrow said. |
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