  Bent Arrow smiled happily as he started to crawl behind his uncle toward the Sioux horses. He had been afraid that at the last moment his uncle would think it too dangerous for him. Evidently Flying Arrow was convinced that the Sioux had stuffed themselves with fresh meat and would sleep soundly. The fact that there were no guards near the horses showed that the Sioux were confident that they were safely hidden. Bent Arrow thought proudly how well his uncle had planned this raid. The Sioux had gorged themselves. They would sleep soundly. Only a clumsy, awkward raider would make enough noise to arouse them. Bent Arrow’s first uneasiness came when Flying Arrow passed the horses farthest from the sleeping warriors and continued to crawl nearer the camp. The second horse which the two Crows passed snorted loudly and pranced aside. For a moment it looked as though the whole herd would stampede. When the horse had started to move, Flying Arrow had stretched out on the ground. Bent Arrow quickly followed his example. Both of them lay motionless until the horse quieted and again started grazing. Flying Arrow waited until he was sure that no warrior had been roused by the noise. At last he started ahead. By the time he and his uncle had passed half the horses in the herd, Bent Arrow’s uneasiness was becoming real alarm. The glow of the campfires had seemed faint when he watched them from the top of the hill. Here, close to the Sioux camp, the light seemed bright. If a Sioux warrior opened his eyes and looked, he could scarcely fail to see the raiders. Flying Arrow continued to crawl toward those fires. At last he halted. He touched Bent Arrow’s arm and pointed to the next horse. “That is the horse you are to get,” he whispered, so low that his voice was hardly louder than the wind rustling through the dry grass. Bent Arrow turned and crawled toward the horse. When he had crawled far enough so that the horse was between him and the fire, he slowly got to his feet. The horse took an uneasy step away. Bent Arrow waited patiently until the horse lowered its head to nibble at the grass before he moved toward it. The horse tossed its head and moved ahead several steps. Bent Arrow stood and helplessly watched the horse. A shower of sparks flew up at one of the campfires as a log burned apart. One end of the log blazed up, throwing light which would have shown Bent Arrow to any warrior awake in the camp. Bent Arrow felt the icy finger of fear along his spine. He wanted to turn and run for the top of the hill. Somehow he managed to fight down his panic. A new plan occurred to him. As quickly as he dared, he stepped beside another horse. Luckily this horse stood quietly while Bent Arrow walked along its side and reached its head. With the pressure of his hand against the horse’s neck, Bent Arrow guided it toward the horse he wanted. When he had this horse beside the other one, he let it stop. He slowly walked around the horse and went to the side of the one he had been following. This time the horse stood quietly while Bent Arrow put a rope around its neck. Taking the horse from the herd had to be done slowly and carefully. Any rapid movement might arouse a warrior. Bent Arrow had to hold back his own impatience. By the time that he had worked his horse out of the herd, he was about halfway up the hill out of the valley. Here the shadows were dark, and there was small danger of being seen even if a Sioux warrior chanced to waken. A few steps and he would be across the hill and completely out of sight of the Sioux camp. The horse suddenly swung its head, jerking the rope tight. Desperately Bent Arrow held on. The next moment the horse stepped quietly ahead. As Bent Arrow crossed the top of the hill, he felt moisture against his cheek. Then he saw flakes of snow dancing in the air. If he and Flying Arrow could move swiftly enough, the snow would hide their trail. Good fortune was on their side this time. Then he saw the mounted rider just ahead of him. There was no chance to escape. At that moment he realized the rider was Flying Arrow. “Get on your horse,” Flying Arrow whispered. “We can escape easily.” Bent Arrow jumped on his horse’s back. Flying Arrow led the way, at first going slowly, but soon letting his horse run. Bent Arrow stayed close behind him. So suddenly that Bent Arrow was taken completely by surprise, his horse stopped running and started bucking. Bent Arrow fought to keep his seat. He stayed on for two wild pitches, but the third one sent him flying through the air. He landed with a thud that drove the air from his lungs. He leaped to his feet, gasping and struggling to draw air into his lungs. When he did manage to draw in a lungful of air, he looked up and saw his horse racing back the way he had come. Flying Arrow had turned and was trying to catch the horse, but it had too great a start. He soon gave up the pursuit and rode back to Bent Arrow. Bent Arrow fought to keep his seat “Get up behind me,” he ordered. “We’ll both ride this horse. That one will undoubtedly arouse the Sioux camp.” Bent Arrow climbed onto the horse behind his uncle. Flying Arrow turned the animal in the direction of the place where they had left their own horses and started it at a gallop. Snow was falling so fast that the ground was already blanketed with it. “I’m sorry I let the horse get away,” Bent Arrow told his uncle. “It couldn’t be helped,” Flying Arrow assured him. “No rider would have expected the horse to buck after running so well.” A load seemed to lift from Bent Arrow’s shoulders. He had been blaming himself bitterly for losing the horse. He had thought his uncle must blame him. Instead, the warrior had seen it as an unavoidable accident. The wind began to rise, driving the snow stinging against the riders’ faces. Bent Arrow lowered his head close to his uncle’s back to keep the snow from his eyes. Flying Arrow sat erect, giving all of his attention to keeping the horse running in the right direction. As they rode on, Bent Arrow strained to catch any sounds of pursuits, but none came. The driving snow was piling up so that the horse was leaving a plain trail. However, if the snow continued, it would soon cover the trail again. It was daylight when the two Crows reached the place where they had left their horses. Bent Arrow leaped down. Without waiting for instructions, he gathered up their few belongings and the remainder of the deer meat. Flying Arrow dismounted, rolled the supplies in two bundles, and tied the bundles on one of the horses. He took the lead rope of that horse and motioned for Bent Arrow to mount the other one. “We’d better cross the river to find a hiding place,” Flying Arrow decided. Bent Arrow shivered at the thought of getting in that icy water. However, when they came to the river, he slid from his horse and swam beside it to the other shore. Across the river, Flying Arrow continued riding straight into the wind. The driving snow stung their faces and pelted their eyes, but Flying Arrow continued to lead the way confidently. Finally he stopped in a sheltered place. “The horses will be able to get grass here,” he pointed out. Bent Arrow hobbled the horses while his uncle started making camp. As soon as he had cared for the horses, Bent Arrow helped build a shelter. Flying Arrow showed him how to lean branches against a small tree to form a framework. Smaller branches were woven into the framework, and there was a wall to keep the snow from their blankets. As soon as the shelter was completed, both of them searched for firewood until they had a good supply piled nearby. Flying Arrow took his and whittled away the part of a stick that had been wet by the snow. Then he whittled dry shavings. Bent Arrow put his robe over his head and took a corner in each hand. He leaned forward over the pile of shavings, using his robe as a roof to protect the kindling from the snow. As soon as he had enough shavings, Flying Arrow struck fire with his flint and steel. In a moment the fire caught. Flying Arrow fed fuel to it until it burned brightly. “Now we’ll eat,” said Flying Arrow, smiling. The food tasted so good that for a few minutes Bent Arrow almost forgot his disappointment over losing his captured horse. The snowfall was heavier, and the rising wind was driving it so that it was sifting through the branches of the shelter. “We’ll sleep now,” Flying Arrow said when they had finished eating. “As soon as Old-Man-of-the-North stops blowing snow at us, we’ll start toward the main camp.” “I wish I had a captured Sioux horse to lead into camp,” Bent Arrow said. “There will be other raids,” Flying Arrow assured him. “Perhaps you will find the eagle feather which Clawing Bear said you needed. With it, you’ll be sure to capture a Sioux horse. You almost succeeded without it.” Bent Arrow rolled up in his robe and stretched out in the protection of the lean-to. He lay on his side and pulled the robe high to protect his face from the snow that sifted through. In a short time he felt warm. If it hadn’t been that pain began to throb in his leg, he would have been comfortable. In spite of the pain, he soon fell asleep. When Bent Arrow awoke he found himself in complete darkness. He could see nothing at all. He started to raise his head, but it bumped against something soft. He had to choke back a cry of alarm. While he had been asleep, some strange spirit must have dragged him into a deep cave or an animal’s den. The next moment he smiled to himself as he realized that the snow had drifted over him. Slowly he raised himself, holding his robe in a way that kept the snow from sifting down his neck. When he was out of the drift, Bent Arrow found that snow was still falling. He stood up and looked at the sheltering lean-to. Snow had piled to the top of it and was now blowing across it. It was the snow blowing over the lean-to which had covered him. He glanced toward the mound of snow which covered Flying Arrow. As Bent Arrow watched, his uncle stirred and then quickly crawled out of the drift. “Old-Man-of-the-North is still sending snow,” Flying Arrow remarked, glancing around. “I hope the sun becomes angry tomorrow and melts all of his snow,” Bent Arrow said crossly. “It might be better for us if Old-Man-of-the-North keeps sending snow,” Flying Arrow answered thoughtfully. “The storm will keep the Sioux in that valley. We might have another chance to make a raid.” “Could we try?” Bent Arrow asked eagerly. Before he answered, Flying Arrow took a careful look around. He sniffed the wind. “I think the snow will continue,” he answered. “If our horses can get through the drifts, we have a chance to succeed.” Bent Arrow glanced about him, trying to decide how much of the day was gone. The dark clouds and driving snow shut off most of the light, yet Bent Arrow felt that there must be a fourth of the day left. “Is there much daylight left?” he asked. “If there were no snow, we could ride to the Sioux camp before dark,” Flying Eagle answered. “We’ll start at once. It will be harder traveling after darkness falls.” Flying Arrow and Bent Arrow went together to get the horses. Flying Arrow mounted his own horse, while Bent Arrow got on Rock. The horse they had captured from the Sioux was left behind. Flying Arrow led the way, with Bent Arrow close behind him. Traveling was difficult. The driving snow made it hard for them to see. It was impossible to judge the depth of the drifts. Twice Flying Arrow started through what looked to be ordinary drifts only to find them so deep that the horse couldn’t get through. Each time he had to back the horse out of the drift and circle around it. They had gone only a short distance from camp when Flying Arrow’s horse stepped into a drift and plunged out of sight. Rock reared and jumped back. As soon as he had his horse quieted, Bent Arrow dismounted and hurried to the edge of the drift. He could see his uncle still on his horse. The drift had filled and hidden a small ravine. Flying Arrow was trying to quiet his horse so that it wouldn’t injure itself. “Get on your horse,” Flying Arrow ordered. “Toss me your rope. If you can pull me out, we’ll get the horse out.” Bent Arrow hurried back to Rock. When he was mounted, he urged the horse forward. Rock stepped carefully, and again Bent Arrow was thankful for this dependable horse. When he was as close to the edge of the ravine as he dared go, Bent Arrow pulled the horse to a stop and tossed one end of the rope down to his uncle. He looped the other end of the rope across Rock’s shoulder as he had seen squaws tie travois poles. When Bent Arrow gave the command, Rock backed slowly away from the ravine. In a moment Flying Arrow was safely on the bank. The moment Flying Arrow was off its back, his horse started plunging and struggling to get out. It worked its way forward to a place where the banks were lower, but still it couldn’t get out. “I’ll have to pull it out,” Flying Arrow said. He took the rope from Bent Arrow and tossed a noose over the horse’s head. After he had fixed the noose so it couldn’t slip and choke the horse, he took Bent Arrow’s place on Rock. “Make all the noise you can,” Flying Arrow ordered. “Get the horse excited so it will try to get out.” Bent Arrow yelled and jumped at the horse. It had been quiet. Now it scrambled frenziedly to get out of the ravine. Rock backed away, pulling on the rope. The hoofs of the excited horse caught on the edge of the ravine. It gave a lunge, and at the same time Rock put all of his weight against the rope. The horse’s hoofs slipped, but it got another footing and scrambled out. It stood in the snow blowing and pulling. “This is too dangerous,” Flying Arrow decided. “We almost lost one of our horses. We’ll return to camp and make a better plan or at least wait until we can travel.” Bent Arrow tried to hide his disappointment. Anxious as he was to make another attempt to capture a Sioux horse, he knew the wisdom of his uncle’s decision. It would be foolhardy to try to travel in the storm. “Perhaps the sun will melt most of Old-Man-of-the-North’s snow tomorrow,” he said. “It could be,” Flying Arrow agreed doubtfully. Back at camp, they found that the Sioux horse had trampled a place in the snow, but with its feet hobbled, it hadn’t been able to paw any grass free. “We’ll turn the horses loose tonight,” Flying Arrow said. “Even then they’ll have trouble getting enough to eat.” As soon as they had cared for the horses, Bent Arrow and his uncle returned to the shelter. |
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