His father and the other Indians had returned from the hunt. He saw them going to and fro seeming troubled and anxious. The chief, his father, sat watching and waiting.
Mewanee ran as fast as his tired legs would let him.
“Father, father!” he shouted.
The chief jumped up and clasped his son in his arms.
All of the Indians rushed toward them asking many questions.
When they heard the story they sang words of praise.
The chief led his son to the wigwam and bade the mother give him food and drink.
“Rest well, my son,” he said, “for you have indeed been a brave boy. I feel sure that you will be a fit warrior to take my place.
“We have had a fine hunt; you have returned unharmed; we can be at peace once more.”