“My dear child, you are asking for something great. As I came hither, I saw another person starting to come here. Perhaps he has more power than I, and can grant your wish.” He was eager to ask her more, but her form faded into nothing and only the sheen of the waning crescent remained visible.
Another day he fasted and drank no water. He was now very weak, so that he dragged himself about with the aid of a cane. Was there no power to help him in his distress? Night came as he lay wailing and peering into the darkness, when a handsome young man stood before him. “I was sleeping far away, you have roused me with your lamentations,” he said. “I have come to help you. You shall be my son. Do you recognize me? I am the Tobacco your old people plant every year. So long as they harvest me, the Crow shall be a great tribe. They have forgotten the way to prepare the seed, their crops will be poor. I will show you how to mix it before planting. Then you will make your tribe great and teach others and receive all sorts of property in payment.”
And Takes-the-pipe answered; “Father, I am not suffering in order to plant tobacco and gain property, I want to be a chief like Shinbone.”
Then the man replied, “My son, everything else in the universe is easy for me, only what you ask for is hard. That one who used to be your father is very strong. ‘Don’t eat kidney,’ he said. You have eaten it. I cannot make you chief. Listen, my son. All things in the world go by fours. Three of us have come to help you. We have been powerless. A fourth one is coming, perhaps he can do it.”
The next day Takes-the-pipe could hardly crawl on all fours. His head swam. He seized his knife and chopped off another finger joint on his left hand. Then holding aloft the bleeding stump he cried, “Fathers, I am giving you this. Make me a chief!”
Suddenly a huge figure came panting toward him, shaking a rattle and singing a song. “I am the last,” said a big bear; “though I am heavy and slow, I have arrived.”
Takes-the-pipe called out to him joyfully, “Father, I knew you were coming. Cure my knee so that I can go out to cut a picketed horse and become a chief.”
“My son, the one who used to be your father is very strong. He does not want you to be a chief. Well, I too am strong. If you are a man, I can help you. If you are faint-hearted, I am powerless.”
“Father,” said Takes-the-pipe, “make me great; make me greater than other men, and if I die what matters it?”
“My son, there are many chiefs in camp; of your kind there shall be but one. Tell me, have you ever seen the whole world?” Without waiting for an answer, the bear lifted him up. Mountains and streams and prairies and camps came into his vision. The berries were ripe and the Crow camp loomed in sight and the Tobacco society were harvesting the precious seed. Far away were hostile lodges. Then the leaves were turning yellow and the enemy were setting out to raid Crow horses. One Crow all alone was riding towards them. “My son, do you see that horseman with trailing sashes? They were trying to hold him back, he has broken loose. He could not be a chief; he wants to die. He is a Crazy Dog. He speaks ‘backward’; he cares little for the rules of the camp. Where there is danger, he is the foremost. Dress like him, act like him, and you shall be great. The people will speak of you so long as there are Crows living on this earth. This I will give you if your heart is strong.”