White Cloud thought for a moment and then he said, “But, Running Dog, you do not think that we are the only ones off on a hunting party. These are probably the tracks of some of our men who are also seeking game and have come this far north in search of it.”
“That may be true, White Cloud; on the other hand, these may be the hoof prints of Kiowa ponies and if so then we are much further north than I figured and are now in Kiowa territory. That is not a healthy place to be.”
“What should we do, Running Dog?”
“I do not know. For if we are in the land of the Kiowas we should turn and return to our own land; but if we are not and these are the tracks of friendly Apaches we would be silly to turn back, for only now have the signs of game become plentiful. The problem is whether we should stay and take our chances or return empty-handed with our tails between our legs.”
“You are older, Running Dog, you make the decision.”
“All right then, we shall stay and take our chances. I have seen many signs of deer and we shall find ourselves a large buck to kill before we return to our village. But come, it is getting late. Let us find a good place to camp.”
The two young braves traveled a little farther on, and then when they both agreed that an ideal place was not to be located, they settled for a small clump of trees nestled in a gully. There was water not too far distant, and about two hundred yards from where they camped, there was a large mass of rock ledges that rose up from the ground, eventually growing into a cliff. In among these boulders and rock ledges they were able to find a source of water, and so they decided to make this their base of operations.
To the west of where they camped they had seen a small woodland and swamp area which they figured would make a good hunting place for wild game. The boys went about setting up their camping ground and when they had completed the task at hand they settled down to going over their hunting equipment.
The two boys having checked their bows and arrows went off to attempt to find some fresh meat for supper. White Cloud headed for the woodlands to the west and Running Dog started for the rock formation to the north. After about two hours of hunting and searching, Running Dog returned to the campsite empty-handed, but soon he saw his friend White Cloud riding like the wind toward the camp.
Slung over his horse’s neck was an object that flopped loosely back and forth as he rose. Soon he was in the camp and swinging down from his pony’s back he placed a plump young rabbit on the ground in front of Running Dog and smiled, saying, “Here, little friend, is our dinner for tonight.”