Here he enjoyed life although it was much colder than in his native Kentucky, and in the Winter months he wore coats of fur made from bear skin.
The days soon became filled with interesting things for Masata. One day when he was roaming through the wilds, he heard a wild buffalo approaching. He seemed almost helpless, as he had nothing but a small bow and a few arrows, and the buffalo was only a short distance from him. He began to run in what he thought was the direction of his home, but instead he was going in the opposite way. In a few minutes
he saw the smoke of a camp fire and ran toward it. By this time the beast was very close to him and he was almost in despair, when the buffalo lurched forward, then rolled over dead. Three Indians hunting near by had hit
him in a vital spot with an arrow.
The Indians belonged to a tribe which was his father's most bitter enemy, and they took him before their chief. The chief ordered that he be let live for two moons, and he was given a bed of dry twigs to sleep on as the night was drawing near.
Time passed quietly for Masata until the approach of the morning of the second moon. He had been planning how he would escape from his father's enemies. Finally one morning he slipped into a bear skin and hopped bravely off toward the woods. The Indians thinking he was a bear, shot arrows at him and wounded him in the right arm,
but Masata kept bravely on and was soon out of range of the arrows. Then he bandaged his wounded arm the best he could and set out for his father's wigwam.
He arrived safely the same evening, and his parents were overjoyed to see him and know he was safe once more, and the tribe made a great feast, or as they call it, Pow Wow, as a welcome to his home coming.
While Masata was still a young "brave" their chief died and after a great ceremony, Masata was made Chief of the tribes, and was known as great and good ruler.