“Not this early,” Little Bear protested. “We have had no ice yet.”
“Sometimes Old-Man-of-the-North is unreasonable,” Great Bear answered. “It seems all of the spirits have been working to protect the Crow. I feel Old-Man-of-the-North is sending snow.”
“Then let’s lose no time,” Little Bear urged. “We must find the Crow’s trail before snow covers it.”
Grandfather nodded.
“We are now on Crow hunting grounds,” he said. “We cannot go much farther.”
When they started again, Little Bear took charge of the captured horses so that Grandfather could give all of his attention to looking for the Crow’s trail. The rain was becoming heavier, but it was warm rain. Great Bear’s fears that Old-Man-of-the-North was sending snow seemed foolish. Little Bear’s spirits rose. He knew Grandfather was sure they were near the Crow. Otherwise the old warrior would not take the time to follow so zig-zag a course. So Little Bear was not greatly surprised when Grandfather pulled his horse to a stop and triumphantly pointed to the ground.
“Here’s the Crow’s trail,” Great Bear announced.
Little Bear rode alongside. Both of them dismounted and studied the marks left by the horses.
“I don’t see a track made by the horse with a stone bruise,” Little Bear said doubtfully.
“He could be at the head of the string,” Great Bear pointed out, “or since the ground is soft from so much rain, the bruise may have healed quickly. I am sure this is the Crow’s trail.”