Young Crow Raider

by Francis Lynde Kroll

“As soon as it is light, you water the horses,” he ordered. “If I’m not back by then, you might hunt near the river for game. We’ll need food.”

After Flying Arrow slipped away into the darkness, Bent Arrow sat on his robe and waited until the eastern sky gave enough light so he could see. He took the horses to the river and let them drink. He found a hidden place where there was plenty of grass for the horses. He returned to the camping place, rolled up the blankets, and hid them. He took a small branch from a tree. With this he brushed the ground until there were no signs of the camp left.

Bent Arrow arranged two sticks to tell his uncle where the horses were in case the warrior was the first to get back to the camping place. He went back on the trail he and his uncle had followed the day before. When he thought that he was far enough from the camping place, he went toward the river. He hunted along the river until he found the place he wanted. It was a clump of willows near the river and along a well-worn trail leading to it.

Bent Arrow had been hidden in the clump of willows only a short time when he caught the faint sound of something coming down the trail. He kneeled, waiting tensely as the sound came nearer. His heart was pounding wildly when a fine buck stepped into view. The deer stopped, lifted its head, and sniffed suspiciously. Evidently it failed to catch Bent Arrow’s scent, because it came on toward the river.

Bent Arrow waited until the buck was a step past him before he fired. The arrow struck the deer just back of the foreleg. The animal crumpled beside the path. There was a scurrying farther back. Bent Arrow knew that the sound was made by other deer which had been following the buck. Their sharp ears had caught the sound, warning them of danger. They were fleeing back up the trail.

Although he wanted to jump up and run over to look at the first deer he had ever shot, Bent Arrow remained hidden in the clump of willows. It was possible that a Sioux warrior would be hunting along the river. As Bent Arrow waited patiently, he felt more and more uneasy. There was an unnatural stillness around him. It wasn’t only that there was no movement along the path, but there was nothing stirring on either side of the river.

As he waited, still crouched on one knee, the awkward position began to make his leg hurt. The pain increased rapidly. It hurt below his knee, where the old injury was, and all the way up his leg. Little beads of sweat moistened his brow. He had to move. As he tensed himself to shift his position without touching a twig or making any other sign of movement, he saw a branch move on the other side of the river.

Bent Arrow almost forgot his pain as his eyes searched the other bank. Another branch moved slightly. A Sioux warrior crawled out to the river bank and leaned down to drink. In his excitement, Bent Arrow had forgotten the pain in his leg. Now it swept over him, and he remembered that it was Sioux warriors who had injured him and made him different from other Crow boys. He took careful aim at the unsuspecting warrior across the stream.

Before he let the arrow fly, Bent Arrow knew it would be a mistake to shoot. If he missed, or if he injured the warrior, or even if his shot was successful, the Sioux would be warned. There would be no chance of Flying Arrow’s plan succeeding. Silently Bent Arrow lowered his bow.

When the Sioux warrior had drunk his fill, he raised his head and listened. Slowly he got to his feet, and his sharp glance swept up and down the river. Bent Arrow was thankful that the deer had fallen to one side of the path where it was hidden from the Sioux’s sight. At last the Sioux slipped back from the river. For a few paces Bent Arrow could follow the warrior’s progress by the slight movement of the underbrush. Soon he could no longer see any sign of movement. He had no way of knowing whether the Sioux had stopped or whether he was moving more carefully. There was nothing to do except wait.