  The Blackfoot tribe was on the move. The buffalo had begun to search for new pasture. So the tribe had packed all its tepees on the travois and were moving to follow the herd. Their lives depended upon these prairie beasts, and they did not dare to be too far from them. For two days the herd moved until it found enough grass and water, and then it milled around and started to graze. How long or how short a time they would stay in this new place, no one knew; but here the tribe must make its camp until the buffalo forced them to move again. As soon as his family’s tepee was set up, Little Thunderbird wandered off in search of some excitement. He was a Blackfoot lad who seemed to be able to get into trouble no matter where he was—like the day he cut the string on his father’s bow, or the day he burned a hole in his mother’s new dress. These are only samples of the kinds of mischief Thunderbird got himself into. So today he planned to stay far from his home until mealtime and in that way keep out of trouble. Skipping through the village, he saw some of his friends throwing stones to see who could throw the farthest, and he ran up to them to ask if he could play. His friends told him to get in line and wait his turn. Soon he was throwing stones along with the other children. After they had played this game for a while, the children decided to play Follow the Leader. There was a great deal of talk about who would be leader for the game. Finally, one of the older boys was chosen, and he led off by dodging through a rack of drying buffalo meat. After everyone had run through the rack, the leader headed for the strings of ponies which were picketed out on the edge of the village. Here he ducked under the lines of many ponies that reared and whinnied from fright as the shouting youths leaped past them one after another. This kept on until one of the braves who was guarding the ponies chased the boys back into the village. The leader ran over boulders, danced between tepees, and did many other stunts which each boy repeated until finally the leader sat down, tired out. All the other boys admitted they were tired, too, and the group sat around talking about their fathers’ great deeds. Soon it was Little Thunderbird’s turn and he stood and walked to the center of the circle, the way the big braves did in council. Then he raised his hands for silence from the group. “My father is the greatest of Blackfoot warriors,” Thunderbird began. “One day, while he was out on a hunt with some other braves of the tribe, he spotted a mountain lion. They were high in the hills and they had been looking for some ponies that had strayed from the herd. When my father saw the mountain lion, he spoke with the other braves and they decided to kill the beast. As you know, the mountain lion preys upon our pony herds. By killing this one, that would be one less lion to worry about. My father looked around the circle of braves and asked who would go with him to kill the lion. The braves talked a great deal and at last two of them stepped forward and said that they would go. “Slowly the three men began the climb into the hills. The lion had seen them coming and headed for higher ground. But finally he came to a solid wall and could climb no farther. My father stepped forward and drew his bow and shot an arrow toward the lion. He missed and the lion started toward him, snarling. The other braves turned and ran for their lives. There was no time to shoot another arrow, so my father drew his knife and waited for the lion’s charge. “The beast leaped, and my father caught the lion on his knife. Again and again, he plunged the knife into the lion. The fight ended quickly. The lion lay dead at my father’s feet. My father had not even been scratched. Dancing around his victim, my father cut the lion’s tail off and placed it in his pouch. Then he caught up with the other braves farther down the trail, and they continued on the hunt for the ponies. “After they found the ponies and brought them back to the village, my father told the council of his brave fight and held the tail of the lion on high for all to see. For his courage, he was allowed to wear another feather in his headdress. Now he is really a brave worthy of honor from all. But the two who deserted him were cowards and do not deserve to be members of our tribe.” When Little Thunderbird had finished, he seated himself in the circle once again. He was proud of the way the other boys listened to his story and the way they talked of his father as a great brave. Little Thunderbird enjoyed the attention he was getting, but in his heart he was troubled. He had made up the whole story. There was no truth at all in it. Then the test came. “Take us to see the lion’s tail, Little Thunderbird,” one of the boys said. “We want to see the lion’s tail.” And the rest of the boys took up the cry. Now what was Little Thunderbird to do? But he decided to bluff it out anyway. He led the boys to his father’s tepee. When they got there, he searched hurriedly for something that looked like a lion’s tail. But he could not find anything. The boys began to get angry. “You lied to us, Little Thunderbird,” one of them said. “Your father never killed a lion, and he is not the greatest brave in the tribe!” The other boys agreed. They ran out, leaving Little Thunderbird standing at the entrance to his father’s tepee. Suddenly, Little Thunderbird felt very much alone. In the next few days, he began to feel even more lonely because the other boys would not play with him or speak to him. This went on, until one day Little Thunderbird refused to leave the tepee. His mother asked him if he felt sick, and he told her he was “just a little tired.” But Little Thunderbird’s mother knew that something must be wrong and so she talked with her husband about it. “I know what is wrong, my dear wife. My friends have told me of Little Thunderbird’s tale to the other boys one day about the brave deed of his father, the greatest warrior the Blackfoot have ever known. When they asked Little Thunderbird to prove the story, he could not. He had lied to his friends and his conscience is punishing him.” “But can’t you help him?” the boy’s mother pleaded. “There is nothing I can do. Many moons ago I taught my son the strength of truth. He does not have to lie now. If he is not proud of his father, let him say so. I am not ashamed that I have not done something great and have not done something very brave. I have done no more and no less than most of the braves of the tribe. Surely I am not the greatest warrior in the tribe, and I have never given Little Thunderbird any reason to say that I am. The boys will not make fun of him if he tells the truth. They know that their fathers are like me. The boys will probably praise him if he admits that he lied.” Little Thunderbird lay just inside the tepee and had heard his father speaking with his mother. Rising from his bed, he ran out of the tepee and headed through the village to find his friends. His parents understood and did not try to call him back. Finally, he found them, once again seated in a council circle like the men of the tribe. When they saw him coming, the tallest arose from his place and stopped Little Thunderbird before he could reach the circle. “What is it you want here, teller of lies?” he asked angrily. “We do not want you for a friend. Go from this place. There is none here that you could call a friend.” “Wait, let me speak,” Little Thunderbird begged. “I have something important to say and I want to be heard.” “All right, speak,” the tall lad said, “but be brief—and none of your lies!” Little Thunderbird stepped to the center of the circle. He was about to raise his arms for silence as he had done before, but he thought better of it and waited until the boys were quiet once again. “The last time I stood before you I told you of my father’s brave deed in fighting a mountain lion.” The boys began to laugh, but Little Thunderbird went on. “I lied to you. My father is a brave man but he has never had to fight a mountain lion. My father taught me to tell the truth when I was very young. He trusted that I would, and I have broken that trust. But I have learned my lesson. Lies can bring nothing but hurt to the liar and to all who trust him. If we speak with a straight tongue, our friends will believe in us and trust us. I ask you now to trust me. I will never lie again. Your friendship means too much to me.” The tall boy rose from the circle. The other boys watched him closely to see what he would do. Everyone was very quiet. “Here truly is a brave Blackfoot,” the tall boy said. “It took real courage for Little Thunderbird to come before this council and admit he was wrong.” He paused and looked at Little Thunderbird. “I offer you my hand in friendship once again. Come, take your place in the council.” Little Thunderbird smiled and took his place. A short distance from the circle, a tall brave smiled, too. Little Thunderbird’s father had been sure to speak loudly so that his voice would be heard by the young boy inside the tepee.
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