  Little Bear didn’t know how long he slept. When he awoke, it was dark except for the light of the campfire. The horses were gone. Little Bear guessed Grandfather had put them with their other horses. He could see Grandfather was cooking something over the fire. Little Bear lifted his head to watch. He saw with relief that there were no flakes of snow drifting down into the fire. The storm was over. Grandfather glanced towards the lean-to. “How is the shoulder?” Great Bear asked when he saw Little Bear was awake. Little Bear felt of his shoulder. Grandfather had cut the shirt away and applied a poultice. The wound was sore, but the throbbing pain was gone. “It is better,” Little Bear answered. Grandfather came from the fire carrying something on a clean piece of bark. He bent over Little Bear and removed the poultice. Very gently Great Bear applied a new poultice. “The soreness should be gone by morning,” he assured Little Bear. Grandfather returned to the fire and began broiling the steaks he had cut. Little Bear’s mouth watered at the smell of cooking meat. He couldn’t remember ever having been so hungry before. Despite his hunger, when Grandfather offered him the first steak, Little Bear remembered his manners. “You first, Grandfather,” he said. “Wounded warriors are always fed first.” Great Bear smiled. Little Bear felt a glow of pride. Grandfather had said “wounded warriors.” Had Grandfather meant to call him a warrior? Little Bear was still puzzling over that question when he went to sleep. It was his first thought when he wakened the next morning. He sat up in his buffalo robe, happy to find his shoulder hardly pained at all. There was no snow falling and the sky was clear. As soon as the sun was a short way up in the sky, it would start to melt the snow. “Shall we start for home today?” Little Bear asked. “If your wound is healed enough,” Great Bear answered. Grandfather removed the poultice and examined the wound. “You can travel,” he decided. “I’ll put a bandage on for safety.” Little Bear went with Grandfather to get the horses. As the two of them approached the herd, Little Bear stopped to admire their horses. He and Grandfather together had sixteen good mounts, enough for a small hunting party. Grandfather watched Little Bear’s pleasure. “You are rich.” Great Bear smiled. “Few warriors own that many ponies. You can pick a fine horse from this herd and it won’t matter whether you are able to buy Flying Arrow’s roan colt or not.” “We have many good horses,” Little Bear agreed, “but I must have that roan colt.” Little Bear and his grandfather each selected a horse to ride. They returned to camp, packed the meat they had left, and tied it on the back of one of the other horses. They turned out of the valley and rode northward. As much as possible Grandfather avoided the deep drifts. Despite his care, they rode through much deep snow and their progress was slow. Although the sun shone warmly most of the day, the snow melted very little. Great Bear constantly looked to the northwest. Early in the afternoon he called a halt. He had chosen a small valley, well supplied with trees, for their camping place. Little Bear found a place where the horses could paw through the snow to grass. “I saw you often looked to the northwest,” Little Bear said, as they sat by their campfire. “Are you afraid there will be more snow?” “I am.” Great Bear nodded. “It doesn’t feel like snow weather, but we have been fortunate. The spirits have helped us. Some of them are sure to turn against us. I am afraid Old-Man-of-the-North will send another snowstorm.” Despite Great Bear’s prediction the next morning dawned clear. He and Little Bear made an early start. In the country across which they were now traveling, the snow had not piled up so much. They were able to avoid most of the deep drifts. They went much farther that day than they did the first day. “How long will it take us to reach the Sioux home camp?” Little Bear asked when they stopped for the night. “If this weather holds, we shall be there in three more days,” Great Bear judged. The next day was another clear, sunny day. Grandfather and Little Bear moved steadily ahead. When they had started, Great Bear had always ridden at the front of the herd. Little Bear was proud that now Grandfather often let him ride ahead. It was almost admitting he was a warrior. When they camped that night, Grandfather was very pleased. “With another day’s travel as good as this,” he exulted, “we’ll get home the following day even if Old-Man-of-the-North does send more snow.” They moved as steadily ahead the next day as they had the day before. About the middle of the afternoon Little Bear was riding in the lead. He rode to the top of a small hill. In a wide valley just across the hill was a great herd of buffaloes. The herd was moving east. Since the wind was from the north, Little Bear’s scent was not carried to the buffaloes. He whirled his horse around and rode back to stop Grandfather and the horses. “What is wrong?” Great Bear demanded anxiously. “There is a great herd of buffalo just ahead of us,” Little Bear told him. Great Bear dismounted and walked to the top of the hill. He soon returned. “The herd is moving to the lowlands ahead of the snows,” Great Bear explained. “We can get all the meat our horses can carry.” Little Bear’s eyes sparkled. He and Great Bear would ride into camp with a long string of captured horses. If they brought those horses in, loaded with meat, they surely would be heroes. “Let’s get some buffaloes,” he urged. Grandfather had been as excited as Little Bear. Now he hesitated. “Riding into a big herd when it is on the move is dangerous,” he cautioned. “I have killed a buffalo,” Little Bear reminded him. “I know you have.” Great Bear’s voice snapped. “I know, too, the last time you visited a council, you were called boy-with-the-big-mouth.” “I am sorry, Grandfather.” Little Bear hung his head. “I did not mean to boast.” “You have done enough to make the warriors forget that other name.” Great Bear’s voice was softer. “Don’t boast and get it back. Remember, when you do great deeds, others will speak of them.” “I will remember,” Little Bear promised. “That is good,” Great Bear approved. “Now, let us make plans for our buffalo hunt. This time we want no calves; just young, fat cows.” They sat together while Great Bear explained how they were to hunt buffaloes. When Great Bear had finished, he and Little Bear hobbled all of their horses except two. Little Bear started to mount the horse he had ridden when they took the horses from the Crow. Grandfather stopped him. Little Bear picked out a young fat cow “You will ride my buffalo horse,” Grandfather told him. “I have hunted more times than you. I want you to have a well-trained horse so that you will be sure to get two buffaloes.” Buffaloes are nearsighted creatures, depending upon their sense of smell to warn them of danger. Since the wind was blowing from the herd towards the two hunters, they were able to get close before the buffaloes were aware of danger. Little Bear picked out a young, fat cow and started his horse towards it. He gave his whole attention to his bow and arrows, depending upon his horse to bring him alongside of the buffalo. When he was beside the buffalo, Little Bear fired for the spot just back of the foreleg. The arrow struck a bone and glanced off. Little Bear took careful aim. This time the arrow struck just back of the buffalo’s foreleg and buried itself to the shaft. The buffalo took two stumbling steps before it fell. Little Bear’s horse raced after another buffalo. The buffalo swerved farther into the herd and the horse followed. As the horse carried Little Bear alongside of the buffalo, some movement at the edge of the herd pushed the buffaloes close together. The one Little Bear was after was so close to him he couldn’t get a shot at a vital spot. He took a quick look over his shoulder. Two big bulls were crowding close behind his horse. He was surrounded by a sea of buffaloes. If his horse stumbled, there would be no escape. Desperately Little Bear pressed his right knee against the side of his horse to try to force it away from the buffalo on that side. The horse tried to crowd over, but the close-packed buffaloes did not yield. Little Bear knew he had to get out of that herd. If a buffalo ahead of him stumbled, or his horse missed a step, he would be thrown under the herd and trampled to death. A cow, ahead of him and slightly to the left, did stumble to its knees. There was a momentary lessening of the pressure. The horse crowded to the left. Now Little Bear had enough room to try a shot at the buffalo he had been following. He fired an arrow and saw it sink in. The buffalo crumpled to the ground. Instantly Little Bear’s horse moved over into the opening left by the slain buffalo. Before the herd could close together again, the horse was edging to the right. With the skill of a tightrope walker the horse worked its way through narrow openings towards the fringe of the herd. Time and again Little Bear thought his mount would be knocked down and both of them trampled underfoot, but each time the horse escaped. At last the horse carried its rider out of the herd. Little Bear ran his hand across his wet brow. He was thankful Grandfather had insisted that he take this horse. No other horse could have carried him out of that herd. When he had somewhat recovered, Little Bear looked around. Great Bear was busy butchering one of the buffaloes he had slaughtered. Little Bear rode back to help. He and his grandfather worked steadily until they had skinned and butchered all the five buffaloes they had killed. The sun had gone down by the time the task was finished. Little Bear brought up the other horses while Grandfather put the meat in packs. They loaded the meat on the horses and rode on until they found a suitable place for a camp. “Shall we reach the main camp tomorrow?” Little Bear asked, as he helped Grandfather prepare their camp. “We can,” Great Bear assured him. “However, if we ride to a place near the camp and wait until morning, everyone in camp will see us come in with our fine string of horses and our big supply of meat.” “That would be a way of boasting,” Little Bear objected. Grandfather smiled. “It would be,” he agreed. |
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