Time dragged slowly. It seemed to Little Bear the sun had stopped in the western sky and wasn’t trying to sink to rest in the west. At last there was a faint rustle at the flap of the tepee. Little Bear looked up to see Great Bear step outside. For some time Great Bear stood looking silently at him.
“You spoke in the council today,” Great Bear said sternly. “It was a great honor to a boy to be allowed to enter the council tent with the warriors. Speaking without permission was poor repayment of an honor.”
“I know, Grandfather.” Little Bear spoke hesitantly with his eyes upon the ground. “I am ashamed.”
“You earned a new name. One which will be hard to live down.”
There was a hint of a smile in the old warrior’s eyes.
“I am ashamed,” Little Bear repeated.
Without another word Grandfather turned and reached inside the tepee. He straightened up with a bow in his hand.
“Tomorrow you will be twelve summers,” Great Bear told him. “It is time you learned to use a good Sioux bow. I made this for you.”
Little Bear took the bow Grandfather held out to him. He tried to find words to thank his grandfather, but there was a lump in his throat. For a terrible moment he thought he was going to cry. Any warrior in the Sioux camp would be proud to own a bow Great Bear had made. He held the bow towards his grandfather.
