“I threw stones at them to drive them back,” Flying Arrow answered. “But Rock did most. He soon understood that I didn’t want the others to get out. He stayed near the entrance and kept the other horses back.”
Flying Arrow went on with his story. He told how after the Sioux had captured the two horses they held another council. The warriors had delayed until the sun had passed overhead. At last they had prepared to move to the canyon walls. Before they started, two mounted warriors were sent around the canyon walls to scout. One of them came dashing back, shouting and waving his arms. In a short time the Sioux had mounted, two to a horse, and ridden off. Later, the party of Crows came in sight.
“There were only seven or eight men in the Crow party!” Bent Arrow exclaimed. “Why did the Sioux run?”
“Probably they thought more Crows were coming,” Flying Arrow answered.
By that time Bent Arrow and his uncle had reached the corral. Flying Arrow pointed out the horses which now belonged to Bent Arrow. There were twelve of them. He was a rich boy.
“One horse is enough for me,” Bent Arrow protested. “You were the warrior in charge. You deserve all of the horses.”
“You did a warrior’s work and you deserve a warrior’s share,” Flying Arrow insisted.
“I’ll trade all of them for Rock,” Bent Arrow offered.
The moment he had spoken, Bent Arrow wished that he could recall the words. His uncle had been generous in giving him half of the horses, far more generous than anyone would expect him to be. Bent Arrow knew how ungrateful he must appear. Yet his uncle didn’t seem displeased.
“Come. We must go to our tepee and get ready to go to the Council Fire,” was all that he said.