Lakota Read Free

return, Hinkpila gave his Lakota friend a fine steel knife with a polished bone handle. It was a knife to put Capa and his friends to shame, and Mastincala rode eastward along the Platte road feeling taller and prouder. But his heart was sad, too, for he had never parted with a friend before.
    That summer was a remembered time for Little Thunder's Sicangus. Good fortune smiled on the hunt, and soon the camp was alive with the aroma of smoking meat. Bellies were full, and as the grandmothers pounded chokecherries into strips of meat to make the wasna, the dried buffalo meat that would prevent winter starving, songs of thanks rose to Wakan Tanka.
    Mastincala was too young to ride with the hunters, but he stalked what game was to be found beside Platte River. His first kill was a plump porcupine, and his mother accepted it proudly. Quills were greatly favored for decorating warrior shirts, after all.
    Soon thereafter the Rabbit had his first spirit dreaming. Often he had seen images of this or that in his sleep, but never had the spirit visions seemed as real. He sought out He Hopa and explained about the dream, telling how while he had been hunting with the other boys in the rocks beyond the river, a large black bear had come upon them. It growled and fell upon them, striking boys until none save Mastincala remained. The bear had gazed with cold eyes upon the Rabbit while the boy notched an arrow and let it fly into the bear's heart.
    "Ah, brave one, I am no more," the bear had cried. Then he was gone, and the boys were alive once more.
    "Perhaps your heart is torn by the words of your brothers, little one," He Hopa said, leading the boy aside. "You are seen small and unworthy by their eyes, and you wish to grow taller."
    "It's true," Mastincala admitted. "But the bear felt close."
    "Then perhaps he will come, and you will have your chance," He Hopa said, smiling. "Here, I will give you a strong arrow with a sharp point. Carry it among your deer arrows."
    Mastincala thanked the medicine man for the gift, and Four Horns urged caution.
    "Maybe it is only a dream," the old man said. "But your eyes have always held power, Mastincala. The bear may come."
    Mastincala spoke to no one else of the bear or the dream, not even his father. In time he put it out of his mind. To the other boys, he made up one tale after another to explain the long, sharp-pointed arrow he carried in his quiver. But despite their nagging, he never once spoke of the truth.
    "A man of power should not betray his secrets," He Hopa said often. It was wisdom well spoken, for Mastincala couldn't have endured the taunts that would have followed a seven-year-old's revelation of a spirit dream.
    Then one afternoon as the boys stalked a small doe in the rocks beyond the river, they came upon a rockslide. As they crept among the fallen boulders and passed a dark hole in the hillside, a roar not unlike thunder froze their feet. Out of the darkness rumbled the very bear Mastincala had seen in his dream.
    "Run!" Capa screamed as he scampered away from the lumbering creature. Those who could did so. Two of the older ones fired arrows first. Their small shafts and flint points, designed to penetrate bird feathers or rabbit fur, bounced harmlessly off the enormous bulk of the bear. Both shooters were suddenly in terrible peril. That was when Mastincala called to the bear.
    "Here I am, Mato! I, Mastincala, am ready for you."
    The bear turned and eyed the bare-chested boy as Mastincala notched his arrow. Then, holding his arm as steady as was possible, the Rabbit let loose his arrow. It struck the bear in the throat. The animal roared in pain and bellowed so that the earth began to shake. The terrified boys fled through the rocks, all save Mastincala, who remained to await his fate. Suddenly Tacante and his brother, Hinhan Hota, arrived. They leveled their new rifles and fired. The bear fell on its side and breathed out its life.
    The boys howled their relief, then raced to touch