They came, one by one, entered the low doorway, and were seated in a circle close to the inner wall of the wigwam, some on the low beds and some on mats.
Nokomis and Good Bird passed to each a wooden dish containing meat, dried berries, parched rice, and maple sugar.
There were many prayers and much smoking of the long pipe which was passed from host to guest. Then Fleet Deer led his son to the middle of the wigwam. The child's face and body were painted, and his long hair was braided and wound around his head.
"You have seen my son outrun his playmates," said the father. "You know that he has taken the honors of victory from a companion that is older and larger. One and another who watched the race have said that my son is like a young elk in his running.
"I was but a lad, my kinsmen, when your former chief, my father, gave me the name I bear. He has taken the long journey to the land of spirits. Will you agree that his grandson bear the name of Swift Elk?"
The warriors gravely bowed their heads in approval. Again the pipe was passed, and the smoke curled and rose in the lodge.
Swift Elk, the grandson of a great chief, had earned his name.