Young Crow Raider

by Francis Lynde Kroll

One of the women glanced straight at Bent Arrow. He held himself motionless. It didn’t seem possible that she would fail to see him, but she turned toward her own tepee. Bent Arrow breathed a sigh of relief when the other squaw went on with her work.

Bent Arrow crawled to the first tripod. None of the pieces of meat on it was very large. He looked down the line to the next tripod. There was a large piece hanging on it. Before he crawled ahead, Bent Arrow glanced toward the tepees again. None of the squaws was watching. When he reached the second tripod, he found that the piece of meat wasn’t as large as he had thought. He glanced down the line. There was a much larger chunk on a tripod farther along. Again he made sure that no squaw was watching before he crawled on.

This time he had made no mistake. He had found a large piece of meat, so large, in fact, that it was sure to win the prize. He reached out to take it from the tripod. At that instant there was a loud chatter of talk behind him. He jumped to his feet to run, but he was too late. A squaw grabbed him with a grip too powerful for him to twist loose.

“We’ll find out who this thief is,” the squaw stormed.

In spite of Bent Arrow’s twisting and struggling, he was dragged to the near-by spring. The squaw held him with one hand. With the other she dipped water and splashed it on his face until all of the mud was washed off. By the time that she had finished, she was laughing.

“I see that the magpie is Bent Arrow,” she said with a smile. “Well, grab a chunk of meat and run. Boys will be boys.”

Bent Arrow seized the meat and dashed out of the camp. He was the last boy to get back to the meeting place. A fire had been built, and meat already was roasting over it. The teacher took Bent Arrow’s meat and put it over the fire.

“You captured a truly large piece of meat,” he told Bent Arrow.

Bent Arrow made no reply. He took his place in the circle of boys. He was able to give only part of his attention to the words the teacher was speaking. He had brought the largest chunk of meat. That entitled him to the eagle feather. Still, there was an uneasy doubt in his mind. He thought back to the teacher’s instructions. They had been that a prize went to the one who captured the largest one. Captured—His thoughts were interrupted by the call to food.

The meat was good, and the adventure of having helped get it in a raid added to its flavor. Ordinarily Bent Arrow would have enjoyed it greatly. Now he was so busy with his thoughts that he scarcely noticed its taste. When everyone had eaten his fill, the teacher called for the boys’ attention.