A flock of wild ducks flew across the lake. Near the shore they turned and flew over the low meadow where the boy hunter was hiding in the high grass.
Suddenly the swift arrows flew. One, two, three, four ducks were hit and fell to the ground. Swift Elk picked up three and swung them over his shoulder.
He looked a long time for the fourth duck. Then, seeing another flock approaching, he ran toward the lake shore.
Again he was fortunate in choosing the place of their approach. White Cloud saw more arrows fly, and more ducks fall. Swift Elk ran on out of sight.
Then the little girl crawled from her hiding-place and crept along the ground in search of the missing duck. Surely there was something stirring in the long grass ahead. Almost afraid to move, the child crept closer and closer, until she saw a duck with a broken wing hanging useless by its side.
In a moment she had caught it. She held the bird in her arms until its struggles ceased. Then she bound its wing to its body with long pieces of grass.
She crawled to the stream and dropped water in its bill. The duck swallowed the water but refused all food.
White Cloud watched every movement in the distance, not daring to stand lest Swift Elk return. So she worked her way, concealed by high grass, to the home trail.
How she ran until she reached the low wigwam built for her dolls! Here she made a soft bed for the wounded bird. She smoothed its feathers and talked to it. How happy she was when she was able to coax the duck to eat the food she offered!
Swift Elk came home at night with all the game he could carry. His mother praised his hunting, and his father was pleased because he had passed the entire day alone and without a mouthful of food.