White Otter

by Elmer Russell Gregor

"Yes, I will tell you how to do this thing," he assured Little Raven. "We must wait here until it is light. Then we will go different ways. We will follow those trails and find out where they go. If they come back to this straight trail, then we will leave three stones in three tracks. That will tell us that we are both on that trail. If I find those stones, I will keep going until I come up with you. If you find those stones, then you must keep going until you find me. I have finished."

"My brother, I have listened to your words—now I know what to do," said Little Raven. "But I must tell you that I am heavy in my heart. Perhaps we will not see each other again. Perhaps the Pawnees will kill us. Well, I will not think about it."

"You are a warrior," White Otter reminded him. "A warrior wipes those things from his heart."

Fearing that Pawnee scouts might follow the trail back under cover of the night, to learn if they were followed, the wily young Sioux made a long detour and camped farther to the west. They muzzled and picketed the ponies, and took turns watching until the faint gray streak in the east finally ended their suspense.

"Now we must go away," White Otter said soberly. "Little Raven, you are my brother. You are very brave. You are going to do a hard thing. Perhaps you will be killed. I will take your hand."

"White Otter, you have called me your brother—it is true," replied Little Raven. "Yes, we are going away from each other. Perhaps we will never meet again. Well, I will do the best I can. Now I will take your hand."

They stood a moment, silently clasping hands. Then they mounted their ponies and rode away. The eastern sky was tinged with gray, but the plain was still dark. They rode rapidly toward the place where each had abandoned his search the day before.

Darkness had already given way to daylight when White Otter reached the grassy swale where he had ended his reconnoissance the previous day. He immediately set out on the trail, riding slowly, and keeping a sharp watch for Pawnee scouts. There was constant peril of running into an ambush, and, wherever the plain offered suitable concealment for his foes, he made a wide detour, and kept safely out of arrow-range. As the trail continued directly toward the west, he feared that this company of Pawnees were actually from another village. The possibility caused him much concern. He realized that once the main force of his foes divided into different bands, it might be necessary to visit each camp before he could locate his tribesmen. In that event he felt certain that his efforts would be useless, as he had little doubt that Wolf Robe and Yellow Horse would have already met their fate before he could even find them. Therefore, the anxious lad rode along with a heavy heart, and a mind filled with all sorts of disquieting misgivings.

The day was far advanced when he finally learned that his long detour had been in vain. The trail suddenly ended in an intricate maze of tracks, which scattered in all directions. As White Otter realized how easily he had fallen into the wily trap that had been set for him, a great rage entered his heart, and his eyes flashed threateningly. He knew at once that the Pawnees had simply separated temporarily to delay their pursuers. Having lured them a day's journey from the real trail, they had scattered and gone to join the main command. White Otter saw it all plainly enough now, but he feared that the trick had already achieved its purpose. He believed that the delay would prove fatal to Wolf Robe and Yellow Horse.

For a moment the discouraged Ogalala lost heart. It seemed mere folly to continue in the face of the unexpected difficulties that beset him. Still, he banished all idea of turning back. He had given his word to his grandmother, and even if he could not save Wolf Robe, he was determined to rush into the Pawnee village and avenge him. The frantic appeals of old Singing Wind rang in his ears, and the memory of her grief restored his confidence. He told himself that he might still save the Ogalala war chief. The possibility drove him to action. Wheeling his pony, he raced madly toward the east.