  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 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. |
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