The spring passed; and the lively pleasant summer. Indian boys do not work. They are free to loaf or hunt, and train for warriors. Only the girls work, so as to make women who will work.
In the crisp fall all the men except the very old left on a grand hunt, to bring back meat and prepare for winter. The old women and girls and little children remained in the town with the old men. The four young white Indians had not been taken, either. They had to stay. They were thought not to be old enough, yet.
"I reckon this is our best chance to escape," said Buck Elk, when he might.
Little Fat Bear nodded.
"We'll plan and watch sharp. If one goes, all'll have to go, though. No lone trail."
"Of course. We won't desert each other."
"But we've got to wait for a clear field. It's a pesky long way home."
"That's so. Just the same, we can make it if we have a good start."
They told the other boys, and they all lay low, waiting and scheming.
"We're going fishing to-morrow," finally announced Buck Elk, to Fat Bear. "Want to?" And he winked.