The Changing Wind Read Free Page B

that hid in the grass along the shore. They watched a muskrat pull himself out of the water and shuffle along the opposite shore. It was a narrow path that the creature followed, because a rocky bluff rose almost from the water’s edge.
    “Let’s try to climb the bluff!” Bull Roarer suggested.
    They made their way upstream to a point where they could cross and started back along the bluffs base.
    “Look! A path!” Crow pointed.
    It was a narrow ledge, rising from the water’s edge and angling upward against the face of the bluff. It was far from being a path, but it did appear to have been used by small animals. The three crept upward, clinging closely to therock. They were nearly back to the point where they had seen the muskrat when there was a sudden flash of motion ahead.
    “A fox!” Small Elk pointed. “Look, there is his lodge!”
    The fox had disappeared, but they found that the shelf widened to perhaps a pace across and several paces long. The opening to the fox’s den showed evidence of recent use.
    “Maybe there are pups inside!” Bull Roarer said excitedly.
    The boys were trying to peer into the dark hole when there was a sudden gasp from Crow.
    “Aiee!
Head Splitters!”
    The others whirled to look. They were about a long bowshot from the camp and high enough on the bluff to see over the tops of the newly leaved trees. A dozen warriors, painted for combat, slipped quickly among the lodges.
    “They have not been seen!” Small Elk exclaimed. “Should we?…”
    His question was interrupted by a scream of terror from the village, immediately answered by a chorus of yipping, falsetto war cries from the attackers. It was the first time any of the three had heard the terrifying war cry of the Head Splitters. Small Elk felt a chill up his spine, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood erect in his terror.
    “Get down!” he mumbled.
    The three crouched on the narrow ledge, watching in fascinated horror. There were few men in the camp; most of them were gone for the day on a spring buffalo hunt. It was decided later that the Head Splitters must have watched and waited for such an opportunity.
    They saw Sits-in-the-Rain, who often told tales to the children around the story-fires, start up from his backrest in front of his lodge. The old man reached for his bow, but age had slowed his reflexes. The Head Splitter who struck him down hardly bothered to break stride as he moved on.
    A lodge toppled, and greasy smoke began to billow out from under the collapsed lodgecover as its own cooking fire began to devour it. The invaders seemed everywhere. People were running in all directions, a few standing to fight and being clubbed down where they stood.
    Bull Roarer was crying as he saw his mother’s lodge fall.They could not see whether she was trapped inside as it began to burn. His sister scrambled out under the edge of the lodgeskin and ran for the bushes, pursued by a yipping Head Splitter. This was too much for Bull Roarer. He jumped to his feet, the others trying to pull him back out of sight. The boy jerked away, lost his balance, and fell over the edge. His scream was unheard in the village because of all the noise, death, and destruction there, but it was heard by his friends on the ledge.
    “We must help him!” Crow gasped.
    They peered cautiously over the edge. Bull Roarer lay below, partly in the water, his left leg crumpled under him, jutting out at an unnatural angle. His big dark eyes, full of agony, looked up at them helplessly.
    “Lie still; make no noise!” Small Elk used the handsign talk.
    Bull Roarer nodded.
    “We will help you as soon as we can,” Small Elk continued.
    There was another gasp from Crow. Directly across the stream, looking up at them, stood a Head Splitter. He moved a little to see what occupied their attention and discovered the injured Bull Roarer. Chuckling, the man took an arrow from his quiver and fitted it to his bowstring. Then he seemed to consider and