  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 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.” Both Bent Arrow and his uncle mounted their horses. They rode across the river, but a short distance on the other side, they dismounted and tied the horses. From here on, they must go on foot. The air had grown much cooler, and dark clouds were shutting off the little light the stars gave. Yet Flying Arrow walked along as surely as though it were broad daylight. While Bent Arrow was carefully stepping in his uncle’s tracks, he was considering the distance yet to go. He had gone swiftly, and it had taken him a long time to go from the Sioux camping place to the meeting with his uncle. Would they have time to walk to the Sioux camp, take horses, and escape before daybreak? While Bent Arrow was still worrying about the time that it would take to reach the Sioux camp, Flying Arrow stopped. “Old-Man-of-the-North is sending his wind at us,” he pointed out. “We would have to circle the Sioux camp and approach it from the south, even if we didn’t want to go there to find the eagle feather.” “What difference will that make?” Bent Arrow demanded, thinking uneasily of the time they were losing. “The Sioux warriors are not like buffaloes. They can’t catch our scent.” “Their horses can,” Flying Arrow explained. “With a storm coming, the horses will be restless and uneasy. If they catch a strange scent, they may make enough disturbance to rouse the Sioux camp.” “I should have thought of that,” Bent Arrow acknowledged. “It is well to ask questions,” Flying Arrow assured him. “A boy remembers better when he knows why a thing is done.” Flying Arrow started on. Now they went straight south with the wind at their backs. They were on open ground away from trees, so they could go rapidly. After a time, Flying Arrow turned west. He led the way into a great wide valley. Soon Bent Arrow saw places where buffaloes had been slaughtered, and he knew that they were in the valley where he had seen the Sioux. The Sioux must be camped by the spring across the hills to the north. In the middle of the valley, Flying Arrow turned north and led the way up the dividing hills. Old-Man-of-the-North’s wind was carrying the odor of smoke and cooked meat. There was no doubt but that the Sioux were camped just ahead. Near the top of the hill, Flying Arrow got to his hands and knees. Bent Arrow followed his example. “Are we near the eagle feather?” Flying Arrow asked in a whisper. “It’s nearer the top of the hill and to our right,” Bent Arrow answered. The two of them crawled forward and then to the right. Carefully they searched every clump of weeds, but they couldn’t find the feather. “We can delay no longer,” Flying Arrow whispered. “Perhaps we must punish the Sioux to earn such valuable medicine as the eagle feather.” He stretched out prone and wriggled toward the top of the hill. Bent Arrow followed his uncle’s example. At the top of the hill they could look down into the Sioux camp. There were no Sioux warriors stirring about, although the campfire glowed brightly. The Sioux camp had been pitched near the trees. The horses were grazing between the top of the hill and the sleeping warriors. The glow of the campfire gave enough light to make it easier for the raiders to pick the horses they wanted. At the same time, the horses would hide Flying Arrow and his nephew from any watchers in the camp. Bent Arrow waited as patiently as he could while his uncle studied the camp. At last Flying Arrow nodded confidently. “We’ll crawl to the herd and pick the two horses that I saw this morning,” he said. “It will be easy,” Bent Arrow answered. “Often the raid which looks easy is the most dangerous,” Flying Arrow warned. “Follow me. I’ll point out the horse you are to take.” |
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