The boys laughed, “Ah, you’re just fooling us,” they insisted. “You can’t smell rain like you smell flowers or skunks.”
They ran over to Tatanka who, leaning against an old oak, was gazing down the valley where a large, high, rocky island arose like a flat-topped mountain.
“I climbed to an eagle’s nest on that mountain when I was a boy,” he told the lads. “The eagle was the totem of our village. I brought down a big young eagle and the other boys and I caught fish for him and he grew very tame. When he grew older and could fly well he flew away, but he often came back and sat on our tepee poles.”
“Tatanka,” the boys questioned, “is it going to rain to-night? Mr. Barker says he can feel and smell rain. Do you believe he can smell rain?”
Tatanka smiled and gazed into the hazy distance. “Yes, I think it will rain,” he answered, “after a while.”
“Can you smell it?” the lads asked eagerly.
“May be I can smell it, may be I can feel it. White trappers and Indians can smell many things other people can’t smell.”
“We can smell deer and buffalo and porcupines. I can smell the river now.”
“Yes, I think it will rain to-night. And may be there will be thunder and lightning.”
The boys ran back to the trapper.