Part 16

“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.

Based on an idea from a story told to the author by Mr. Walter Elliott.

THE PRIZE NO ONE COULD SEE

The dawn came slowly as the sun tried to fight its way through the mist that hung in the valleys. The spring had been cool, and for nearly a moon rain had been drenching the ground. By midmorning, the sun had burned away the haze, and its rays beat down upon the little Kickapoo village, warming and drying everything that had been wet and cold for so long.

When Little Snapping Turtle walked from his father’s wigwam and saw the bright sun and the blue skies, he called to his father who was still inside.

“Father, father, come here! See, the sun has won. The storm clouds have run from the battle with the sun. Once again we have light and warmth. Is this not a good reason for a celebration?”

“Yes, my son, it is reason enough for you and your friends to celebrate. But we should be glad for the rain we have had because it makes the forest green and gives the streams new strength and makes the lakes rise so that all the animals may drink. Of course, it has also kept the young braves in their houses, so now that the sun is out again we should have a celebration.”

“What shall we do, father? Can we go on a hunt or a fishing trip? Can we, father?”

“No, my son, there is not time for that yet. Now that the sun is with us again, there is much gardening to do right here in the village. But late this afternoon we shall have a race to see who has lost the most speed during this lazy vacation. Go to the other young braves in the tribe and tell them that I, Big Snapping Turtle, Medicine Man of the Kickapoo tribe, will give a fine belt and knife as a prize to the young brave who wins the race this afternoon.”

“What kind of a race will it be, father?”

“Oh, it would not be fair to tell you, my young son, for then you would have an advantage over the other young braves. Just spread the news and this afternoon we will gather in the meadow for the race.”

Eagerly Little Snapping Turtle ran to tell all the young boys to gather in the meadow north of the village late in the afternoon for a race. He also told them about the prize that any young brave would want. Most of the boys he talked to were working hard in the gardens to make up for time lost during the rain. But they stopped long enough to listen excitedly to the news Little Snapping Turtle brought. All of them said they would be there, and then went back to work. The rain had been good for the seed, but it had also been good for the weeds. When Little Snapping Turtle got back home, he went to work cheerfully with his father in their garden to clear out the weeds.

Finally the time neared for the big contest, and the young boys began to gather in the meadow. Soon every boy in the village was present, and Big Snapping Turtle stepped to the front to explain the rules.

He first gave each boy a small container made of birch bark. After this had been done, Big Snapping Turtle signaled for all to be quiet.

“A quarter of a mile from here there are several small lakes,” he said. “In one of those lakes, as you know, there are some very small fish. Each of you has a container. At the signal you will run to that lake and trap a small fish. Making sure to keep the fish in the container, you will run back to the meadow. The first boy to return with a fish still alive in the container will win the race. Then after the prize has been awarded, we will put all the fish you caught into the stream that runs through our village so that they can swim to the great lake to the south.”

The boys waited impatiently for the signal. When it was given, they shouted and laughed as they raced toward the lake that held the small fish. Little Snapping Turtle soon was far ahead of the other young boys. When he reached the lake shore, he waded knee deep into the lake and placed his container halfway under and then stood perfectly still, waiting for the curious little fish to swim into the trap.

As he stood there quietly, peering at the sandy bottom, several of the others arrived and began to follow his lead. Soon there were fifteen or twenty of them spread out near the shore standing motionless waiting for the fish. Now and then a boy would shout that he had made a catch only to find that the fish had escaped.

Finally patience rewarded Little Snapping Turtle. With a flick of his wrist, Little Snapping Turtle scooped his container into the water. When he looked into it, he discovered that he had trapped two fish instead of one. Quickly he waded toward shore and he saw that two boys had also trapped their fish and were on the way back to the meadow. He stopped only a moment to tear a large leaf from a plant that grew along the lake shore. Then he wrapped it tightly over the mouth of the container and started running again.

The two boys were running swiftly ahead of him along the trail, each with a container in his hand. Suddenly, one of the boys slipped and fell and his container and fish went flying off into the brush. Now only one boy, Crying Hawk, stood between Little Snapping Turtle and victory. Using all the strength he had, he began to catch up with the young boy ahead of him.

As he began to pass Crying Hawk, he noticed that the boy was limping. Looking at the boy’s feet, he saw that Crying Hawk’s moccasins were loose, and he guessed that a pebble must have fallen into one of them. The boy stopped to take the pebble out. As he did, Little Snapping Turtle sped by him. Turning to look at Crying Hawk, Little Snapping Turtle found that the boy had just sat down and was crying. He stopped and went back to him.

“What is the trouble, Crying Hawk?” Little Snapping Turtle asked kindly.

“I thought that for once I could win a game and own a new knife and belt. But a pebble has cut my foot, and I cannot hope to win now. I was lucky enough to catch my fish first and I thought that I had a good head start. But as it always has happened, an accident will make me lose the race. I will never be a winner. Don’t wait for me, Little Snapping Turtle. If you stay with me any longer, the other boys will catch up with you.”

Then Little Snapping Turtle remembered that Crying Hawk had never won any contest. He was a little slower than the other boys, and not so skilled as many of them. He, Little Snapping Turtle, had won many contests and many prizes. Quickly he took off his own new doeskin moccasins and slipped them onto Crying Hawk’s feet.

“These will protect your feet,” he told Crying Hawk. “Run quickly now, for you still have a chance. Take my container, too. I have sealed a leaf tightly over the top and little water will spill. Today you will win the race.”

Crying Hawk started to complain, but Little Snapping Turtle silenced him. He pulled the other boy to his feet and, shoving the container into his hand, sent him on his way. With the new moccasins, the boy ran more easily and soon was out of sight. Little Snapping Turtle picked up Crying Hawk’s container and put his feet into the ill-fitting moccasins. He trotted slowly after Crying Hawk, keeping just far enough behind to make sure the boy would win.

He heard several pairs of feet moving swiftly along the trail just in back of him. From here to the meadow, the trail narrowed and only one boy could use it at one time. So Little Snapping Turtle kept his slow pace and kept the others from passing Crying Hawk. Little Snapping Turtle could see the clearing now and he sped toward the meadow. There he saw Crying Hawk standing proudly next to Little Snapping Turtle’s father. He ran up to Crying Hawk.

“Say nothing of what happened on the trail,” he whispered. “You have run a good race, Crying Hawk.”

Soon all the boys were back and the inspection of the containers began. When Big Snapping Turtle had seen all of them, he stepped to the front and declared Crying Hawk the winner. Everyone cheered as the boy received the knife and belt from the smiling Medicine Man. Then they all started back toward the village to place the fish in the stream and then go home.

As Little Snapping Turtle and his father walked along the trail, the Medicine Man asked, “Where did you get that container, my son?”

Little Snapping Turtle blushed as he looked up at his father, but his father smiled. “It is well, my son. I knew each container that I had given out and at the end of the race you did not have the one you had started with. I also noticed the beautiful moccasins that Crying Hawk was wearing. I discovered, too, how big my son’s heart really is. Today you lost a race, but the happiness you won is the best possible prize.”

THE MYSTERIOUS PONY RAIDERS

Among the American Indians truth was respected as most sacred. Parents took great pains to teach their children that above all else, a good Indian was one who had honor and spoke nothing but the truth, or, as the Indians would say, spoke with a straight tongue. It is about the power of truth that this story is told.

The Blackfoot Indians were a wandering tribe of the Western plains. Their very lives depended upon the great buffalo herds. From the buffalo meat and hides, the Blackfeet were able to get their food, skins for clothing, and their tepees; and from the head, horns, and tail, decorations for costume and headdress.

Blackfoot villages were always moving, since they were set up near the grazing herds of buffalo. When the herd moved, the whole tribe would tie its belongings onto travois drawn by horses, and move with the buffalo until the animals stopped once again to graze where there was more prairie grass.

Young Deerfoot, the son of a great warrior of the Blackfeet, Sleeping Bear, prided himself on being one of the strongest of the tribe’s young braves. While growing into young manhood, he had won many honors in his tribe as a warrior and a great hunter. Blind Dog was another young brave about Deerfoot’s age. The son of Black Dog, he also had become quite famous among the Blackfeet for his honors in war and hunting.

Both young braves were guarding the tribe’s horses, one very warm summer evening as the chiefs of the Blackfeet were gathered in the center of the village around the blazing campfires. The chiefs had met to talk of tribal problems and to plan ahead for fall and winter. At this time, life had been unusually peaceful on the plains. There had been some horse stealing and a few occasional skirmishes among small parties of raiders from different tribes. Outside of that, there had not been much excitement.

As the chiefs sat around the fire, Blind Dog and Deerfoot were taking their job of standing guard over the horses very seriously. The quiet was broken by a noise off to one side of the herd of horses. Deerfoot signaled silently to Blind Dog to draw near so that they might speak. When Blind Dog had reached Deerfoot’s side the two crouched low behind the horses, and Deerfoot whispered that he had heard a noise slightly to the west of the herd.

The two braves crept forward on their hands and knees, keeping the horses between themselves and whatever had made the noise. The horses began moving uneasily as the two young braves drew closer to the spot from which the noise had come.

Deerfoot stopped abruptly. He slapped Blind Dog’s shoulder and began to laugh. Not two paces from them was a small mongrel dog which had wandered down among the horses seeking a cool place in which to lie and rest for a while. When Blind Dog saw what had amused Deerfoot so much, he laughed too, because they had been so alarmed by a dog.

“If it were not so quiet tonight,” Deerfoot remarked, “we would not have been so worried by anything so unimportant as a puppy.”

“Yes,” Blind Dog agreed, “it has been much too quiet. We have not had much excitement. Things have been far too peaceful.”

“Do you wish to have a war on your hands, Blind Dog?” Deerfoot asked with a smile.

“Well, it would be a very welcome change from horse herd duty at night, and repairing bridles and broken weapons in the daytime.”

“You are getting restless, my friend.” Deerfoot spoke soberly now. “That is not good. When one gets restless, one becomes careless. That can be dangerous.”

At first, Blind Dog refused to be serious. “Oh, do not worry, Deerfoot. I may have become restless, but I will never become careless.” Then he added gravely, “To become careless even for a moment might mean death to a warrior like myself. There is many a brave in other tribes who would love to see my scalp hanging from his tepee pole. But I like the feel of my scalp right where it is. Anyway, nothing—not even a puppy—will ever catch me off guard.”

“Do not be so sure of yourself, Blind Dog. Being so sure can make any brave careless. You must always be alert. It may seem too peaceful to us here now, but even the quiet shadows of this very night could conceal our enemies. As we sit here talking noisily about not being careless, they could be stealing some of our best horses. Let us go back to our guard posts so that we can watch the herd as we should.”

Deerfoot and Blind Dog mounted their horses and had started to circle the herd to see that nothing had disturbed the horses. When they had finished checking and had dismounted, Blind Dog complained that he felt ill.

“Since we have just checked the herd and everything is all right,” Deerfoot said, “why don’t you return to the village, Blind Dog, and go to your tepee? It is almost time for the other guards to take our places. I can stand guard alone for that short time.”

Blind Dog said that he should not leave his friend, but with Deerfoot’s urging, he finally agreed and walked slowly back toward the village. Arriving at his tepee, he found that his father must still be at the council meeting. The night air had become chilly and he wrapped himself in a warm buffalo robe and curled up in the corner of the tepee. Blind Dog was just about to fall off to sleep when he heard men shouting excitedly and horses snorting and pounding their hoofs. He struggled out of the robe and stepped outside of the tepee in time to see several chieftains break from the council ring and head toward the horses.

As they reached the edge of the herd, they called out for the guard but there was no response. They called again and again, but their only answer was the stomping of horses and the frightened neighing of ponies. It was very dark and it was some time before the chieftains discovered that about six of their finest animals were missing. Where were the guards, they wondered, and how had the horses gotten loose? Then someone noticed Blind Dog and called to him.

“Blind Dog, were you not on watch with Deerfoot? What did you see? What happened? Who raided our herd?”

Blind Dog looked at Great Owl and his father, Black Dog, who stood waiting for his answer. Just then they heard the clopping of a single pony’s hoofs. Peering into the darkness, they could make out the figure of a lone horseman riding wildly toward the standing group. As the rider came nearer, Blind Dog saw that it was his friend. Deerfoot jumped from his pony and stood, breathless and bleeding, before the chieftains, waiting for silence so that he could report what had happened. When everyone was quiet, Deerfoot began his story. For the moment, Blind Dog was forgotten.

“Blind Dog and I were on guard here at the horse herd,” Deerfoot said, “when we heard a strange noise. We found that it was only a stray dog that had wandered down here to the horse herd. We went back to our guard posts and settled down again, keeping careful watch.

“After some time had passed, I heard another noise much like the dog had made so I did not pay any attention. Suddenly, the horses became uneasy. When I went to see what the trouble was, I was struck a blow on the side of my head. It was not too hard a blow and only made me a little dizzy. As I shook off the shadows from my brain, I spotted a small group of warriors who were cutting some of our best ponies loose from the herd. Then I called for Blind Dog and started after the raiders. By the time I had reached the place the raiders had been, they were already heading back into the night, driving several of our ponies before them. I quickly mounted a pony and started to chase the thieves, but I lost them in the darkness. Perhaps I was closer to them than I realized because they let some of the stolen ponies go. I have been able to round up some of the ponies, but I believe there are still a few missing. I will mount up again and start after them immediately.”

But Chief Great Owl stopped Deerfoot with a wave of his hand and said, “No, Deerfoot, let some of the other braves round them up. You are hurt and need rest. But first we must speak with Blind Dog. Who has seen Blind Dog?”

Without any hesitation, Blind Dog stepped from the circle of braves and stood next to Deerfoot.

“You summoned me, Chief Great Owl?” he asked politely.

“Blind Dog, were you on herd guard duty tonight with Deerfoot?”

“Yes, Great Chief, I was.”

“When Deerfoot called you to assist him, why did you not answer?”

“Because I was not where I could hear Deerfoot.”

“Where were you then?”

“When Deerfoot called for help, I was in my tepee just about to go off to sleep.”

Great Owl glared at Blind Dog. “Do you mean that you had left your guard post to sleep in your tepee, leaving Deerfoot here alone to watch the herd?”

Black Dog waited for his son to answer. “Speak, my son,” he pleaded. “Tell Great Owl that you did not desert your friend and leave him alone on duty.”

“I am sorry, father, but what he says is true. I was not at my guard post when the raiders came in the night. I did neglect my duty and for that I shall take proper punishment.”

“My son,” Black Dog said with great sorrow in his voice, “do you know what you are saying? You are admitting that you have shirked your duty. Is guarding the herd not important to the whole tribe?”

“Yes, father, it is very important. I am ashamed of what I have done.”

Great Owl ordered Blind Dog to be held under guard until the council should decide his punishment.

Quietly, Blind Dog went with the guards. He glanced back toward Deerfoot, but Deerfoot would not meet his gaze. Dropping his head upon his chest, Blind Dog was troubled that Deerfoot had avoided looking at him. He was worried, too, about why Deerfoot had not told the rest of the story—how Deerfoot had insisted that he go to his tepee when he had felt ill. Then he guessed that Deerfoot must have had a good reason, so Blind Dog would not change his friend’s story unless he really had to. He vowed, however, that he would try to speak with Deerfoot and discover for himself just why Deerfoot had not told them the whole story.

The tepee in which Blind Dog was held under guard was close to the center of the village where the council had met. Suddenly, he heard many voices talking excitedly and realized that the council had gathered again. What had been a calm council before had now become an angry group of men seeking revenge upon the horse stealers. He heard Deerfoot repeating his story and the chieftains questioning him closely. Above all they wanted to know of what tribe the raiders were members. Then he could hear Deerfoot reply vaguely, “It was dark and I was still confused from the blow upon my head. I would not want to accuse any tribe unless I were sure. But who could be this close to us?”

Many of the chiefs shook their heads in doubt, but Sleeping Bear rose to plead for war, repeating by his own son’s account of the stealing of fine horses by a neighboring tribe.

Crouched in the tepee, Blind Dog realized now why Deerfoot had not told the complete story. Rushing to the entrance of the tepee, he begged the guards to take him before Chief Great Owl and the council. One of the guards ran to the council and reported the prisoner’s mysterious request. Chief Great Owl said that Blind Dog should be permitted to enter the council ring and speak to the council.

With head held high, Blind Dog stepped to the center of the ring and gazed around at the unfriendly eyes which peered at him from faces of stone. Finally Blind Dog spoke.

“Since I was but a tiny boy holding tightly to my father’s hand so that I would not stumble, I have been taught to respect the property of others. I have been taught to honor my parents and the elders of our tribe. I have been taught to learn well the many things a good brave should learn. Above all, I have learned the power of truth.

“My father has told me many times that I would never gain by telling a lie. I have seen the truth of this often. Now, more strongly than ever, I see the power that truth can have. I wondered a while ago why Deerfoot had not told the whole story, but now I know.

“Yes, we were on guard duty together, as he told you, and we did hear a noise after that of the dog. We circled the herd to see that all was well. Upon returning to our starting place, I told Deerfoot that I was not feeling well. I had suddenly become chilled and sick to my stomach. Deerfoot reminded me that it was almost time for us to be relieved, but that I should go immediately to my tepee to rest. He said that he would be glad to stand guard alone. I realized that what I did then was wrong, but I felt so sick that I followed Deerfoot’s suggestion and went to my father’s tepee. There I rolled myself in a buffalo blanket and lay in pain for some time until I, too, heard Deerfoot’s shouts and the hoofbeats of the horses running away from our camp.

“I, too, rushed to the herd and reached there a short time before most of you. I looked around quickly for signs that would show how many raiders there had been. But oh, Great Chieftain, there were no tracks of any ponies other than our own.

“Deerfoot has used this story to try to arouse our tribe to a war. He thirsts for the excitement that fighting would bring him. Now I am sure that Deerfoot ran those ponies off himself in order to cause a war between our tribe and our nearest neighbors. If I am lying now, punish me doubly; but if I am right, let the punishment fall where it belongs, even upon my friend.”

Great Owl rose and called upon Deerfoot to defend himself. All eyes were turned in his direction as Deerfoot rose to face Blind Dog.

“Oh, Great Chief,” said Deerfoot, “all that Blind Dog has told you is true. I sent him from the herd and I ran the ponies off into the night. I made the wound that you see on my head. We had no raiders in our camp tonight. Blind Dog has just taught me the true meaning of loyalty to my tribe.