The medicine man filled his pipe and lit it with an ember from the fire. He blew smoke to the north, the east, the south, and the west. He laid the pipe aside and stared into the fire as though he were watching some interesting happening. When he spoke, his voice was so low that Bent Arrow had to lean forward to catch his words.
“You were in great danger today,” Clawing Bear told him. “You did not have the proper medicine. When I saw you chasing that buffalo, there was a buzzard soaring above you.”
Bent Arrow shivered. Buzzards were the omen of misfortune. They picked the flesh from slain animals and from warriors who had not been given proper burial.
“I could see that the buzzard was watching you,” Clawing Bear continued. “When you leaned toward the buffalo to shoot your arrow, the buzzard started down. Then I caught sight of an eagle above the buzzard. A feather fell from the eagle’s tail. It passed just ahead of the buzzard’s beak. The buzzard turned and flew away. You must have an eagle’s feather. It is your good medicine to protect you from danger.”
“How am I to get an eagle’s feather?” Bent Arrow asked. “The eagles nest far up on the peaks. Already the snow is deep there.”
“You must have an eagle feather,” Clawing Bear insisted.
Bent Arrow asked no more questions. If Clawing Bear knew the way for him to get an eagle feather, the medicine man would have told him. Before Clawing Bear dismissed Bent Arrow, he examined the boy’s leg.
“My medicine has done all it can,” Clawing Bear said. “You must do much walking and running. I believe that when you have found an eagle feather, you will be cured.”
The next day was a busy one for the boys who had been with the hunters. It was their job to build tripods on which the squaws would hang the buffalo meat to dry and smoke. Sly Fox was not allowed to help. As an added punishment for hunting when he was ordered not to, he was given the task of dragging the heavy buffalo hides to the river where the squaws would tan them.
Bent Arrow worked eagerly. It was good to see the supply of meat being prepared for winter use. Best of all, meat hanging on the tripods meant that tomorrow would come the call for a game of wolves.