Ne-ma-ha was the poorest man in my father's village, and had no recognition among the prominent men of the tribe, although he had been the priest or hereditary keeper of the sacred tent of war. It was only by the performance of valorous deeds that men won honors in the tribe; but this man had no ambition to win such honors. As a hunter he was also a total failure, consequently his worldly possessions were not such as could give him distinction. Like his brother, who was struck by lightning, he deserted his sacred charge through craven superstitious fear, and, having lost his priestly position, he had become a useless member of the tribe.
"What's your Omaha name?" I asked, as I pinned his trousers to his suspenders with sharp sticks and nails.
"They call me Hae-th'na'-ta," he replied, wiping his face with the end of his coat sleeve.
The youngster belonged to the Elk band of the tribe, hence the boy's name, the English translation of which is, horns forked, meaning the forked-horned elk. How he came by his English name I do not know.
From this time on the lad was always near me, and gradually became my devoted follower. Although at first I did not care for him much, he finally won my friendship by his faithfulness and good nature. He always assisted me as far as his strength would permit in the work assigned me about the school; thus it was that Little Bob, as he was familiarly known, became a satellite to the group to which I belonged, and so safe from the attacks of the other boys.
Brush, Edwin, Warren, Lester, and I were now recognized by all the boys of the school as a "gang," and were spoken of as "the Middle Five." We had fallen into this close companionship without any formal arrangement, and we were regarded as the strongest group between the Big Seven and the other "gangs."
Chapter V Warren
Brush was a genius as a whittler. He had only one tool, and that was a rusty jack-knife with a single broken blade, and that blade was kept sharp almost to the keenness of a razor. He would take a shapeless piece of wood, out here, out there, scrape at one place, then at another, and go through a series of twists and turns of his strong, deft hands, and at last, with a triumphant smile, hold up to view a wooden horse, buffalo, or some other animal. He had just now finished a little plough which he had been carving for some time, and we, the Middle five, sat in the shade of a tree noisily discussing the accuracy of the work.