CHAPTER FIVE
When they had their horses, the two Crows rode back to the tree where Bent Arrow had left the deer. Flying Arrow took the deer on his horse. He led the way back over the trail they had followed the day before. The sun was starting down the western sky when Flying Arrow turned north off the trail. After a time he stopped in a small valley. There was a small stream running through the valley. There were trees to furnish concealment and fuel.
It wasn’t until the horses had been tended, the deer properly butchered, and steaks frying over the fire that Flying Arrow had Bent Arrow tell his story. At the end of the story, Flying Arrow nodded his head in approval.
“You did well,” he praised.
“Are we going to raid the Sioux camp tonight?” Bent Arrow asked.
“We are,” Flying Arrow assured him. “I was close to their camp before daylight. Their scouts had found a herd of buffalo across the river. They are hunting today. Tonight they will gorge themselves on buffalo meat. They will sleep so soundly that we will be able to take our pick of their horses. Their chief has two fine ones.”
“Why would that warrior have been at the river alone?” Bent Arrow wondered.
“Probably he had been sent out to watch the herd,” Flying Arrow explained. “He was coming back to join the others.”
“I suppose that is the reason,” Bent Arrow agreed.
“Is your leg better?” Flying Arrow asked. “You carried the deer a long way, and I noticed that you weren’t limping when you came to camp.”