Black Dog gave them a hearty welcome. For several weeks they enjoyed his hospitality. Further up the river they disembarked at Penichon's village, where an old warrior who had once gone on the warpath with Smoky Wolf, made much of them on learning that they were from the band of his old friend.
"Say to Smoky Wolf," he commanded, as Hawk Eye and Raven Wing took leave of the aged brave, "that I predict you will be great warriors."
Again they beached their canoes on coming to Shakepay's village, the largest of all. And so it went all the way up the sky-tinted water of the curving, twisting river. At Lac Qui Parle, their last stopping place, they visited the village of the Wahpeton Sioux, called the people of the leaves.
Here it was that Raven Wing was reminded of the time, many, many years before, when his grandfather made his first offering to the Great Mystery.
"Red Feather was a great warrior," said an old squaw. "I remember when he was very young that Uncheeda, his grandmother, led him to the top of a high rock from which to fling his most beloved possession into the lake."
"It was a necklace of bear claws, was it not?" asked Raven Wing.
"Yes, my son it was," answered the old squaw.
At length the two boys took leave of the friendly Wahpetons. Indian Summer had come and gone as they rounded the last bend in the river and saw thin smoke rising from their village fires.
Ohitika sensed the nearness of old familiar places and began to bark. The boys bent to their paddles, sending their frail craft along at a faster pace.
The sunshine hung like yellow smoke over Big Stone Lake. Bright-colored leaves, loosed by the wind, scurried along the ground. Only the burr oaks held valiantly to their raiment. A thin crust of ice lay on the quiet waters of slough and marshland, but at warm noon, they again reflected the sky tints of an autumn day. Wild geese honked overhead and wild ducks winged upward from the watery wild rice fields.