The Long Journey Home Read Free Page A

not to be used in polite society. But here, a greater authority figure was demanding it.
    John Buffalo took a deep breath.
    â€œYellow Bull, sir. He was a great man. He was at the Greasy Grass.”
    â€œGreasy Grass?”
    â€œThe Little Bighorn, sir,” blurted the aide.
    â€œIs this true?” asked the Senator.

    â€œProbably, sir. Warriors from this area—”
    â€œBuffalo,” snapped the Bear, “hold your tongue. The Senator does not want to hear such things!”
    â€œOn the contrary.” The Senator smiled. “This young man speaks well for himself. Are you treated well here, John Buffalo?”
    â€œYes, sir,” John said stiffly.
    â€œGood. Keep up the good work!”
    With that, he moved on.
    John was confused. The visiting chief had spoken to him with approval, but he still might be in trouble with the Bear, White Horse, or any others with authority here. He doubted that he would ever understand the ways of the white man.
    The inspection was finished, and at dinner it was announced that there would be a football game in the afternoon for the visiting dignitaries to watch. John Buffalo was proud to be chosen as one of the players for the demonstration. The wind had died somewhat, and the sun had emerged from behind the clouds. Maybe it would be a good day after all.
    John’s team had several good runs, but the height of the day came when he was able to place a dropkick squarely between the uprights. The opposing team had expected a run.
    Later, he was summoned to talk to the Senator.
    â€œBuffalo, is it? John Buffalo?”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    John noticed that one of the aides was scribbling in a notebook.
    â€œAnd how old are you, John?” the Senator asked.
    â€œAbout eleven winters, I think, sir.”
    â€œMmm … Yes. Well, you are quite an athlete, boy. Good work. You have a talent. When you are a little older … Study hard … . You will hear from me.” He turned to the aide with the notebook. “You have all of this, Tom?”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    John assumed that he was dismissed. He was a bit puzzled. He did not know for certain the meaning of “athlete” or “talent,” but the context of the conversation had seemed good. At least, it appeared that he was in no trouble. In fact, the attitude of the Bear was almost respectful. John Buffalo was made to think that he had acquired a friend who had great influence. He wasn’t sure just what it could mean, but he had a good feeling about it. And hadn’t the Senator emphasized, you will hear from me ?

THREE
    J ohn worked hard and studied well. Once he had learned what was wanted, he could produce satisfactory results. “Satisfactory,” of course, was a relative term. By appearing cooperative, he avoided penalties. Others, more stubborn than he, still had their knuckles rapped with the ever-present ruler in the bony hand of the teacher. Sometimes it was a tweaked ear instead. Old White Horse seemed to delight in sneaking up behind a pupil who was involved in some minor infraction and twisting his ear painfully.
    But Little Bull, son of Yellow Bull, was a quick learner. A whack with the ruler, only one twist of the ear, was all that was required. At the same time, he had developed the technique of presenting the flat, emotionless facial expression which had been noticed by Miss Whitehurst. There was never a lack of emotion in him, but it had quickly become apparent that it was safest not to express it. The ways of the whites were so different … . A moment of joy or laughter or even despair must not be acted on, at least openly. It might be misinterpreted by the Bear or Miss Whitehurst. They seemed to take little pleasure in anything, most of the time. The rare words of praise or encouragement they uttered were as a result of behavior that was exactly as they thought a student should behave. Any deviation always brought frowns and ear