“The Thunders must have picked me out for their favor even before I was born, as you will realize when you hear how I come by my name of Rumbling-wings.
“It appears that my mother confided to her brother, my uncle, that she was expecting me, and according to our custom she asked him to take particular notice of any dream he might have, in hopes of finding out the child’s name. Not long after, he was overtaken at night, far from his village; it was black and stormy and he took refuge beneath an overhanging rock. He found a spot fairly dry, but rough and uncomfortable, and he fell into a troubled sleep. Sometime in the night he was awakened by something, he knew not what, and found himself sitting up, listening. He heard a distant rumbling of thunder among the mountains which seemed at last to take the form of words: ‘Rumbling-wings is coming, Rumbling-wings is coming.’ ... All this he told my mother, and I was born shortly after.
“When the time came for our great autumn ceremony in the Big House—that large wigwam in the square you passed, coming here to-night, is one of them—my uncle took me in his arms and, standing before the centre post with its great, carved face of ‘Mising’ looking down upon me, he announced to the people that my name was Rumbling-wings. Even as he spoke there was a crash of thunder, late as it was in the moon-of-falling-leaves, and a wind sighed through the trees about the Big House, and they heard drops of rain patter upon the bark roof or fall hissing through the smoke holes into the two great fires below.
“Perhaps Whispering-leaves has told you how our people believe that after the birth of a child, its navel string has much to do with its disposition; so, if a girl, they take that string and bury it under the house or in the garden to make her fond of home duties; or, if a boy, they hide it out in the woods so he will like the hunt. Well, my father, so he told me, took mine to the wood, and hid it in a hollow tree. He had hardly done this when a thunder-shower came up and drove him to shelter; coming back on his way home he found the tree, where he had hidden my navel string, burning. It had been struck by a Thunder arrow.
“As a boy I knew nothing of the Thunder power except that when the great, black clouds fringed with yellow, began to pile up in the west, and others, young and old, looked upon them with dread, I alone of the village felt no fear. In fact I used to go out naked into every storm; the crash of thunder was as music to me, the bright flashes were beautiful, the pelting rain refreshed me. And, in truth, I do this yet, always stretching out my arms to my Guardian to thank him for having helped me thus far along the trail.
“But I did not know who my Guardian Spirit actually was until I had seen some twelve or fourteen snows. About this time my parents began to act strangely and to speak crossly to me. I did not understand why I deserved such a change in their feelings, and many a time I felt alone in the world. They even gave me the poorest part of the meat they had to eat, and scraps and leavings of corn bread, and stew that had begun to smell sour.
“One morning I was awakened before dawn by some one punching me in the ribs with a stick—well I remember how it hurt—and I heard my father say, ‘We must drive this wretched boy away from here, I can not stand him any longer. Get up from there, dog-like!’ and he punched me again. My mother who had always until lately taken my part in any dispute, took no notice, but bent over the fireplace, and soon a little fire began to flicker and finally filled our wigwam with light. She went to the water jar just inside the door, and I saw her dip into it our oldest, blackest, greasiest gourd cup. Then she turned to me and her face, usually so kind, seemed hard as flint. ‘Drink, boy,’ she ordered, handing me that cup, and I wonderingly obeyed.
“Then my father spoke, handing me a burnt and shriveled shred of meat no larger than his little finger—a piece full of dirt and grit where it had fallen to the floor. ‘Eat this, miserable brat,’ he cried, ‘and get away out of my sight.’
“A sudden anger overcame me and I flung the morsel full in his face and darted for the door. ‘Wait,’ I heard him say, ‘aren’t you going to blacken your face? And besides I was going to tell you the rest of it, that you must not come back until you bring with you something great, but you started out too quick!’ Did I see a fleeting smile on his stern face? Surely his eyes were twinkling!
“Then it dawned upon me what the matter was; I was expected to fast for power, and all this seeming abuse was nothing but a sham to make Those-above-us take pity on me as an outcast, suffering child, and grant me a vision from which I would gain a Guardian Spirit that would be my protector through life. Often had I heard older boys speaking of such things, but I had never realized that I, Rumbling-wings, was expected to go through the ordeal.