So they started to fish and waited a long time without getting even a nibble. They changed their bait and moved to a new position farther along the lake shore, but nothing did any good. When the sun had sunk very low, Flying Owl’s father announced that it was time to start for home. As they trotted back through the forest, neither spoke to the other, because both were thinking busily about Flying Owl’s story, his good catch of yesterday, and their poor luck today.
When Flying Owl’s mother saw them returning empty-handed, she said nothing of the fact that there were no fish. When the children had finished their supper and gone to bed, their parents spoke of the boy’s adventure. Now they were more puzzled than ever. Just at that moment there was a loud muttering of voices, followed by such shouting and laughter and cheers as had not been heard in the village for many moons. Flying Owl’s father dashed from his home, grasping his bow as he went. Certainly something wonderful must be happening. As he reached the center of the village, the first thing he saw was a tall Seneca Chieftain standing amidst many warriors who were shouting and dancing. It was Bear Claw, a Seneca Chief who had disappeared after a great battle. His people had returned to their village defeated and heartsick, believing him dead, and there had been much sadness. It had happened so many moons ago that Chief Bear Claw had almost been forgotten. Now he had appeared in the village as if from nowhere. Finally Bear Claw raised his arms in the air, asking for silence.
“Your Chief has returned. I have much to tell you, but I must wait because I am tired and need rest. Tomorrow we shall have feasting and dancing and a Great Council. Then I will speak.”
The great warrior turned and walked to his wigwam where his wife and young son, who had been leading the tribe, waited for him. Flying Owl’s father walked slowly back to his home where the boy lay sleeping, unaware of the great event that had been taking place.
The next day the sun rose and covered the small village with a warm glow, as though greeting Bear Claw’s return. Flying Owl walked out into the sunshine and found everyone preparing for a great celebration. He ran to ask his father about the reason for all the excitement.
“My son, sit beside your father who doubted you. Today a miracle has come to pass, and together we will hear how that miracle happened.”
Although he was bubbling over with curiosity to learn what had happened, Flying Owl sat patiently and silently beside his father. Soon it was time for the special meeting. The whole village began to gather in front of the home of the great Chief who had returned to his people. Flying Owl and his father joined the others and sat watching the entrance of the wigwam. Soon a great warrior with a magnificent headdress stepped out. Flying Owl grasped his father’s arm and whispered, “That’s the Seneca Chief I told you about, father!”
“Yes, my son. That is Bear Claw, warrior Chief of our tribe, who has returned to us after we had believed him dead.”
Bear Claw signaled for silence. Then he began speaking with great dignity.
“Many moons ago, when we were at war with our enemies to the north, I fell, wounded by an enemy arrow. Before I could escape, the enemy fell upon me and took me prisoner. I was taken to their village where I was kept under close guard. They did not kill me but made me a slave—a far greater punishment for any Seneca. For many moons I worked in the enemy camp, often being whipped and beaten and spit upon by their warriors and their squaws, and even their children. Two moons ago I escaped and began my long trek homeward. But I moved slowly because the path was long and I was weary. They sent a war party after me to bring me back. So for many suns I hid in the deep forest. I led their war party in a chase, first toward our village, and then away from it. I did not want to come too close to our homes until I was sure they had lost my trail. I knew they would not dare to attack our village because they were a small band, but still big enough to take prisoner any of our people who might have wandered too far away.