  The Powhatan Indians were a great tribe whose hard work each year was rewarded with large supplies of food and clothing. Long Moose was growing up among his people happily, doing his share of the tribe’s work. He had become very tall and awkward. He had great strength, too, which he hadn’t learned yet to use well. During games and contests, Long Moose often forgot how strong he was and, not meaning to, would hurt his friends, sometimes rather badly. Long Moose was still trying over and over to learn how to make hunting tools when winter came. It was a bitter, cold, northern winter. Both his mother and father became very sick and died after only a few days, leaving his younger sister and himself alone without near relatives to help them. Because Long Moose was not a skillful young brave, his sister had little respect for him. He spent many days thinking sadly about his parents, but doing nothing to get food and keep their shelter tight against the wind and snow. Soon their small supply of food and fuel was nearly gone, and Long Moose had brought no hides for making clothes or repairing their home. He had also failed to give his share of food and hides for all the tribe, as every warrior was expected to do. Not only his sister but all the tribe began to feel that Little Moose was not a good Powhatan. His sister’s harsh looks at him and his own growing hunger and cold made Long Moose think about how and why he was not a good brother or a good brave. He had to admit to himself that there was only one real reason besides his poor hunting tools and bad marksmanship: he did not want to hunt or make good hunting tools because he did not want to kill any animals. He thought about how often he had gone out to hunt and even when, without looking for them, he had run across deer near by, he would still come back without having shot a single arrow. Long Moose knew that he loved all wild animals as much as he had loved his parents, and loved his sister and his friends now. Driven by his hunger, the cold, his shame, and his real love for his sister, Long Moose set out several times to hunt. Each time he made a kill, but he was nearly as sad when he had done so as he had been when his parents died. To add to his sorrow, his sister would scold him for his poor skill, and taunt him by saying that he would never grow to be a real brave. All the tribe could see that Long Moose and his sister were hungry most of the time. Their clothes were shabby and their home now was beyond repair. One day in early spring, Long Moose went down to the edge of the lake to be away from the unkind glances of his sister and his friends—and to think. As he sat on a cold rock, staring out at the ice on the lake, an old man of the tribe came up and stood quietly beside him, waiting for Long Moose to speak. “Nantesi, my friend,” Long Moose said, wondering if he still were his friend, “what brings you here to me?” “My friend, Long Moose, for nearly two moons now there has been hunger in your home. Your clothes are worn out, and your sister is afraid to leave your home, because she is ashamed of her clothes. She has told some of the women that you are afraid to hunt the wild game because of the bear that lurks in the woods. Some of the other families have given her food and skins from time to time. But they can give her no more. The next winter may be hard again and each family will need every bit of its food and skins. You must not fear the bear. Your arms are strong, your legs are swift, and surely you have the strength of three men. You should be able to bring back more than is needed in your own home. Will you continue to lose the respect of your tribe, or will you become a man and take your place with the other braves of the tribe?” Long Moose thought carefully about each word the old brave had spoken. “Nantesi,” he said after a long silence, “let them think what they will. I do not fear the wagging tongues of my neighbors, and I do not fear the great bear of the forest. There is a good reason why I do not bring more home for my sister and myself with some left over for the tribe. Never have I feared the creatures of the forest. Instead, I have loved them much as I love my own people. That is why, when on the hunt, my arrows do not bring death. I cannot shoot these creatures who live so happily among the trees and streams. Is it wrong to love these creatures so much? Nantesi, do you not know the feeling I have when a deer licks my hand, or a rabbit plays at my feet while I rest in the shade of a great oak tree? These things have happened to me. The wild creatures trust me and come right to my hand. I cannot bring death upon those who trust me.” Nantesi said nothing. He understood now the feelings within this strange young man. He rose to leave. “Wait, Nantesi, my friend. My heart is heavy. What can I do? I know that what I believe is wrong in the eyes of many, for ours is a tribe of great hunters. What am I do? I must live among my people, but I cannot be happy unless I live my life the way I honestly believe I should.” “Long Moose, I am an old man. Some of our tribe think I am wise. But this time they might not believe that what I say is wise. Go into the hills with your troubled thoughts. Think calmly in the quiet woods, far away from us. Only in this way can your heart give you the true answer that all of nature has been given to man that he may give food and shelter to those he loves and to himself.” Then Nantesi left as quickly as he had come. The following morning, many in the tribe watched the lonely figure of Long Moose leaving the village, as he headed toward the distant hills. At last, after three weeks had passed, all eyes were turned toward the far end of the village. Entering the camp, a fine buck upon his shoulders, was Long Moose standing taller than ever before. His clothes were tattered and torn, but there was a proud smile on his face. Going straight to his sister’s house, Long Moose set the fat buck at his sister’s feet without a word. Smiling, he put one hand on her shoulder as she stared at him in surprise. Many of the villagers crowded around asking questions, but Long Moose said nothing and looked over their heads for Nantesi. Then he saw the old man sitting contentedly before his home, looking kindly in his direction. Walking over to where the old brave sat, Long Moose asked if he could talk with him. Nantesi rose slowly, and greeting Long Moose warmly, invited the young man into his home. When both were seated, Nantesi, as before, waited for Long Moose to speak. “Nantesi, my friend, for a long time I have been away from my tribe. As you said would happen, my mind is no longer troubled. Up in the hills I made a campsite for myself. I lived on nuts and berries and plants and the cool water of the mountain streams. Each night I wrapped myself in my blanket and slept a troubled sleep. “But three nights ago, when I had finished my evening prayer, I rolled myself in my blanket and rested my head upon a soft bed of pine needles. Sleep came suddenly, and for the first time in three weeks I slept peacefully until the moon had risen high in the sky. I awoke with a start knowing I had the answer that you had said I would find in the forest. “Suddenly, I knew that I had watched the very creatures that I love struggle with each other for life here in the forests and in the fields and the streams. I had never thought that this was wrong. Right at this very moment, the struggle for life is going on in many parts of the forest. Before the sun brings the dawn of a new day, many of our forest creatures will have died because others must live. The strongest or the wisest live. Now I knew what I had hidden from myself that if some wild creatures did not die to provide food for others, many of the same animals that I love so much would die. I knew that I should not kill just for the sake of killing. The animals themselves kill only when they are hungry or their lives are in danger. I, too, could follow their example and be a good brave. “The truth had come to me from life itself. I sat up and gazed into the fire trying to decide whether I had been dreaming. Suddenly my heart was happy once again. I went back to sleep and in the morning started my trip back to the village. Halfway here I came upon a buck. My aim was good. I have brought fresh meat for my sister to cook and store away, and a hide for her to make into a new dress. I shall go out again tomorrow and bring back my share for the tribe. “I have found the answer I had been searching for. Now I can return to my tribe with pride. That is my story, Nantesi, and I wanted to tell you first about it. It is good to be back. It is good to be a Powhatan.” Nantesi smiled across at his young friend. “It is good to have you back. Welcome, brave!” |
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