All the tribe could see that Long Moose and his sister were hungry most of the time. Their clothes were shabby and their home now was beyond repair.
One day in early spring, Long Moose went down to the edge of the lake to be away from the unkind glances of his sister and his friends—and to think. As he sat on a cold rock, staring out at the ice on the lake, an old man of the tribe came up and stood quietly beside him, waiting for Long Moose to speak.
“Nantesi, my friend,” Long Moose said, wondering if he still were his friend, “what brings you here to me?”
“My friend, Long Moose, for nearly two moons now there has been hunger in your home. Your clothes are worn out, and your sister is afraid to leave your home, because she is ashamed of her clothes. She has told some of the women that you are afraid to hunt the wild game because of the bear that lurks in the woods. Some of the other families have given her food and skins from time to time. But they can give her no more. The next winter may be hard again and each family will need every bit of its food and skins. You must not fear the bear. Your arms are strong, your legs are swift, and surely you have the strength of three men. You should be able to bring back more than is needed in your own home. Will you continue to lose the respect of your tribe, or will you become a man and take your place with the other braves of the tribe?”
Long Moose thought carefully about each word the old brave had spoken.
“Nantesi,” he said after a long silence, “let them think what they will. I do not fear the wagging tongues of my neighbors, and I do not fear the great bear of the forest. There is a good reason why I do not bring more home for my sister and myself with some left over for the tribe. Never have I feared the creatures of the forest. Instead, I have loved them much as I love my own people. That is why, when on the hunt, my arrows do not bring death. I cannot shoot these creatures who live so happily among the trees and streams. Is it wrong to love these creatures so much? Nantesi, do you not know the feeling I have when a deer licks my hand, or a rabbit plays at my feet while I rest in the shade of a great oak tree? These things have happened to me. The wild creatures trust me and come right to my hand. I cannot bring death upon those who trust me.”
Nantesi said nothing. He understood now the feelings within this strange young man. He rose to leave.
“Wait, Nantesi, my friend. My heart is heavy. What can I do? I know that what I believe is wrong in the eyes of many, for ours is a tribe of great hunters. What am I do? I must live among my people, but I cannot be happy unless I live my life the way I honestly believe I should.”
“Long Moose, I am an old man. Some of our tribe think I am wise. But this time they might not believe that what I say is wise. Go into the hills with your troubled thoughts. Think calmly in the quiet woods, far away from us. Only in this way can your heart give you the true answer that all of nature has been given to man that he may give food and shelter to those he loves and to himself.” Then Nantesi left as quickly as he had come.
The following morning, many in the tribe watched the lonely figure of Long Moose leaving the village, as he headed toward the distant hills. At last, after three weeks had passed, all eyes were turned toward the far end of the village. Entering the camp, a fine buck upon his shoulders, was Long Moose standing taller than ever before. His clothes were tattered and torn, but there was a proud smile on his face.