Young Sioux Warrior

by Francis Lynde Kroll

Little Bear looked about the place where they had stopped. He saw a small stream winding through a clump of willows and emptying into the river. Great Bear led the way along the bank of this stream. As they went ahead, the roar increased steadily. Little Bear kept a watch on all sides, half expecting Spirit-of-Water-That-Falls, or some other spirit, to step out and stop them. Little Bear was carrying the skin of the buffalo he had shot, and he was ready to drop it and run if a spirit appeared.

They rounded a clump of trees and came into view of the waterfall. Little Bear stopped to look. High above them the water dropped over a rocky ledge and came cascading down to a pool below. Part way down, a huge boulder split the sheet of water into two separate sprays. Both sprays fell into one large pool and churned the water up as though there were an evil spirit stirring it.

Great Bear had to lean close to Little Bear’s ear to make himself heard above the roar of the falling water.

“You go behind that fall,” he directed, pointing to the fall at the left. “Behind it you will find a place that is almost dry. Lay the buffalo skin near the water where the Spirit will be sure to find it. Then sit down and wait for a vision. I will go behind this one. If the Spirit sends you a vision, be sure to ask how we can get our Sioux horses back.”

Little Bear nodded. He went to a narrow place below the pool and jumped to the other side. He went slowly and fearfully towards the roaring falls. If he had been alone, he would have turned back. He wondered how he could possibly get through that sheet of falling water to get behind it. But as he came closer, he saw that the water spurted out a considerable distance from the bank. He could walk to one side and get behind the falls.

Behind the falls the roar of water was not nearly so loud. Little Bear took the buffalo skin and carefully stretched it out near the falling water. There was a fine mist spraying upon him, but when he moved back near the bank, the spray no longer hit him. He found a large boulder where he could sit with his back against the wall. He held himself motionless, waiting for a visit from Spirit-of-Water-That-Falls.

He went slowly and fearfully towards the roaring falls

Perhaps it was because he was more than a little frightened at being there, or because it was all new and wonderful that he was alert and wide-awake. In all of the stories Grandfather and other warriors had told him of speaking with spirits, the warriors had always been asleep when the spirits appeared. Little Bear tried closing his eyes, but that did no good. He thought of getting up and walking around, but there was scarcely enough room behind the falls.

He noticed mud swallows were darting about behind the sheet of falling water. The small birds would light on the ground, dip their beaks in the mud, and fly high up on the face of the cliff. They never flew in a straight course, but always zig-zagged irregularly. Since he had nothing better to do and needed practice with his bow, Little Bear began to shoot at the darting birds. They flew so swiftly and darted so unexpectedly that he couldn’t hit any of them. He had shot his fifth arrow when suddenly a large warrior, mounted on a beautiful roan horse, rode out of the falls straight towards him. Little Bear knew at once this was Spirit-of-Water-That-Falls coming to visit him.