There were many shouts of praise and approval, and Falling Water felt a warm glow as his father placed his hands across his shoulders and said, “I am proud of you, my son.”
Today Falling Water had earned his first feathers.
THE RACE WITH DEATH
In the high range of mountains lived the great and powerful Apaches. For many, many years the war between the Long Knives and the Apaches had been waging back and forth.
The Long Knives, as the white men’s cavalry were known in those days, had at last worked out a treaty with the Apaches and all was peaceful for the time being. With the coming of peace to the Apaches, the return of normal family life was slowly but surely noticed by the younger of the warriors.
There was more time now to teach the young braves their lessons, and the women were happier than they had been. For the past few years all the talk had been of war and killing, but now conversation turned to other topics. Of course there were a few young bucks who still chanted for war, but the wiser chiefs desired to stay at peace for as long as was possible.
One evening some of the older chiefs were seated around the fire smoking and talking to pass the evening hours away when their attention was called to Chief Running Dog, one of the older chiefs of the tribe, who had been sitting quietly in the circle not saying much but gazing off into the night as if he were looking for something.
Twisted Wolf spoke. “What do you look for, friend Running Dog? Do you see something in the distance with those old eyes that the rest of us should be looking for?”
“No, Twisted Wolf, I do not look for anything in the present, but rather I am looking far into the past, to a time when I was just a small boy and there had been peace and happiness in our tribe for many years.”
“Why should you think about the past now, old one? Is there something particular that you are trying to recall?”