He followed the bison trail, for that was a sure guide. It led up the river a long way, and then skirted a dark forest. He crossed the river and went to the forest. There he sought out a lonely spot where he stayed several days.
As soon as he had made a fire, Fleetfoot made offerings to the gods. His offerings were fish he caught in the river and birds he caught in snares.
Although Fleetfoot offered meat to the gods, he did not taste it himself. When he was ready to sleep, he rubbed a pinch of wood-ashes upon his breast and prayed thus to the fire god: “O fire god, hover near me while I sleep. Hear my prayer. Grant good dreams to me this night. Grant me a sign that thou wilt aid me. Lead my feet in the right way.”
The first night Fleetfoot had no dreams. The second night he dreamed he was a child again and that he lived in his old home. The third night he dreamed of the Big Bear of the Mountains. He thought that he climbed the mountain crags and went to the Big Bear’s cave. He dreamed that the Big Bear spoke to him and asked him whence he came. Then strange people seemed to come out of the cave and wave their weapons in a threatening way. After that Fleetfoot remembered nothing except that the Big Bear seemed like a friend.
At daybreak Fleetfoot awoke, and at once he thought of his dream. He took the pebble from a little bag. Then he made an offering to the bear as he spoke these words: “O Big Bear! O mighty hunter! Show me the way to thy caverns. Show me where thou keepest the game. Give me strength to meet all dangers. Fill my enemies with fear.”
Then, remembering what Greybeard had said, Fleetfoot gave offerings to all the animals he hoped to kill. In this way he thought the gods would help him when he went out to hunt.
As soon as the offerings were made, Fleetfoot looked for a sign from the gods. The winds began to blow. Dark clouds began to climb the sky. Then the thunders pealed through the heavens.
A stone borer, used in making a necklace.
Fleetfoot, faint from his long fast, took courage from these signs. The winds seemed to be messengers bearing his prayer to the gods. The dark clouds seemed to be the enemies he would meet on the way. The peals of thunder sounded to him like promises of strength. The bright lightning in the sky flashed a message of hope. A flock of swallows circling near seemed to point the way. And so Fleetfoot refreshed himself and started toward the mountains.