“We shall ride west until time to make camp,” Great Bear decided. “Tomorrow we shall go south and west to see if we can find our enemy’s trail.”
As both of them were tired from the long, hard day’s ride, they stopped early to make camp. Great Bear selected a small valley in which there was a large grove of trees. Wood was plentiful and as they were so deep within Sioux territory, it was safe to build a fire. When the fire died down to embers, Great Bear roasted buffalo tongue over the coals. Little Bear gorged himself on the delicious meat.
They made an early start the next morning. It was a cloudy, damp day and Little Bear began to wonder if he had made a mistake, urging Grandfather to return to pursuit of the Crow. Spirit-of-Water-That-Falls had promised a victory over the Crow. But the Spirit had allowed a victory over the Pawnees. Perhaps one victory was all the Spirit intended for them to win.
“It looks as though the Great Spirit will send more rain to hide the Crow’s trail again,” Grandfather said, interrupting Little Bear’s thoughts.
“We must be getting near the Crow.” Little Bear spoke encouragingly.
“We should be,” Great Bear agreed. “After the big rain, the Crow must have seen signs of the Pawnees. He would lose much time hiding his trail from them.”
“We’ll catch him,” Little Bear insisted stoutly.
By noon, when they stopped to rest their horses and cook food for themselves, the rain Great Bear had expected began to fall. It was only a light mist, but a light breeze from the southeast drove it into their faces. Little Bear noticed Grandfather was constantly casting anxious glances towards the north.
“Why do you watch the north?” Little Bear asked.
“I am afraid Old-Man-of-the-North is getting ready to send snow,” Great Bear explained.