The medicine man stared silently at the fire for a long time.
“It was while the hunters were holding the death ceremonies for our people,” Clawing Bear resumed, “that Flying Arrow found you. Your right leg was badly injured. Your uncle set it as carefully as he could. Several Crow warriors looked at you. Each of them shook his head.
“‘It would be better for the small boy to follow his parents to the Happy Hunting Grounds,’ one of the warriors told your uncle.”
Clawing Bear stopped and looked at Bent Arrow.
“The lot of a cripple is bad,” he said gruffly.
Bent Arrow nodded without speaking.
“‘I shall take him to my friend, Clawing Bear, the medicine man,’ your uncle told them.
“He did. I have given you every treatment handed down by Crow medicine men since the Great Spirit walked on earth and taught warriors how to live. Your uncle has seen that you have had every needed exercise. Today you outran two fine racers. The Great Spirit has been kind to you.”
“I am grateful to you and my uncle, too,” Bent Arrow said. “How can I ever repay you?”
“When you are completely cured, we shall be repaid,” Clawing Bear answered.