Because Chincho was a little older than the other children with whom he and Maseca played, he would sometimes be the bully in the group. But only on rare occasions did he bully Maseca. Such an occasion occurred when he boasted to everyone that he could beat Maseca in a foot race. Maseca had accepted the challenge and had beaten the older boy quite badly. Since then, even though Chincho and Maseca had been close friends, Chincho would let jealousy get the best of him and thought of ways to teach Maseca a lesson for having beaten him in a foot race.
Sometimes Chincho even found himself wishing that Maseca would break his leg or suffer some other injury which would make him a cripple. But whenever these thoughts entered his mind, Chincho would drive them out, and dream about the many wonderful times he and Maseca had had together, wandering through the forests and fishing in the streams.
On this bright morning Chincho bolted the last of his breakfast as he heard the hurrying footsteps of Maseca approaching his father’s wigwam. Placing his deer meat in a leather pouch which his mother had made for him and gathering up his fishing gear, Chincho quickly left the wigwam to join Maseca and together they swiftly trotted off through the forest. They wanted to be the first ones to the stream and get the best spots for fishing. They did not speak as they trotted, for they knew that that would only shorten their wind and their speed, and that the other boys of the village might get there before them. Finally, they reached the stream and settled down to catch the lazy fish that swam unaware of the presence of the two boys.
Early in the afternoon, having caught several good-sized fish, they decided to hang their catch in a tree and do a little exploring upstream. So they started out in a direction they had never gone before, remembering the warnings of the elders to walk softly and not too far from familiar ground, because one could get lost very easily in the green forest. This was especially true in the summer when the leaves often hid landmarks that would be easy to remember.
As they traveled farther and farther upstream, gazing at all the beauties of nature around them, Chincho suddenly stopped and threw himself flat on the ground behind a big birch tree. Maseca, not knowing the reason, but realizing that Chincho was not playing a game, did the same thing. Maseca started to speak but Chincho motioned for him to remain silent. Then Chincho pointed up ahead. About a hundred paces ahead standing in a little clearing taking a drink from the stream was a tremendous buck deer. Maseca had never seen so large a deer and he could not help gasping in surprise. Chincho turned and frowned at him and Maseca quickly stifled all other exclamations. Then Chincho crawled close to Maseca.
“Maseca,” he whispered, “do you think we could get near enough to that deer to kill him? Wouldn’t it be wonderful to bring that buck back to the village?”
Maseca nodded that he thought it a wonderful idea and they agreed quickly that they would try to take the big deer as a prize. After making sure that the wind was blowing toward them, carrying their scent away from the deer, they began to move quietly and slowly on their stomachs toward the unsuspecting deer. Chincho rose to his knees and, fitting a new arrow to his bow, stopped some thirty paces short of the deer, drew back on the bowstring, and let the arrow fly. The boys heard the arrow whistle as it flew and the thud as it struck its target. But Chincho’s aim had not been accurate. The deer bounded away, the arrow sticking in his side but not in a vital place.
Chincho knew that he must obey the law of his tribe regarding any animal a brave has wounded. He must track the wounded deer until he either came upon him dead or could get close enough to make the kill. Long ago the tribe had ruled wisely that it was cruel to let a wounded animal wander the forest in pain, possibly suffering so much that it would injure other animals, and possibly dying from loss of blood or from a sickness from the wound. Chincho was tempted not to follow the deer into the unknown woods, when he felt Maseca’s gaze upon him.
“Chincho, you do not plan to leave without finding the wounded deer. It is the law of our tribe.”
Chincho looked guilty and said, “It is not a bad wound. The arrow barely scratched him. He will be all right. Come, let us return to the village before it is dark.”