FullReads

“Every year the Great Cold crept nearer. It came like a strong arm and pressed the people west and south so that the tribes bore hard on one another.

“‘Since old time,’ said Taku-Wakin, ‘my people have been sea people. But the People of the Great Cold came down along the ice-rim and cut them off from it. My father had a plan to get to the sea, and a Talking Stick which he was teaching me to understand, but I cannot find it in any of the places where he used to hide it. If I had the Stick I think they would make me chief in my father’s place. But if Opata is made chief, then I must give it to him if I find it, and Opata will have all the glory. If I had but a Sign to keep them from making Opata chief…’ So he drummed on my head with his heels while I leaned against the Arch Rock–oh, yes, I can sleep very comfortably, standing–and the moon slid down the hill until it shone clear under the rock and touched the feathered butts of the arrows. Then Taku woke me.

“‘Up, put me up, Arrumpa! For now I have thought of a Sign that even the Five Chiefs will have respect for.’

“So I put him up until his foot caught in the cleft of the rock and he pried out five of the arrows.

“‘Arrows of the Five Chiefs,’ he said,–‘that the chiefs gave to the gods to keep, and the gods have given to me again!’

“That was the way always with Taku-Wakin, he kept all the god customs of the people, but he never doubted, when he had found what he wanted to do, that the gods would be on his side. He showed me how every arrow was a little different from the others in the way the blood drain was cut or the shaft feathered.

“‘No fear,’ he said. ‘Every man will know his own when I come to the Council.’

“He hugged the arrows to his breast and laughed over them, so I hugged him with my trunk, and we agreed that once in every full moon I was to come to Burnt Woods, and wait until he called me with something that he took from his girdle and twirled on a thong. I do not know what it was called, but it had a voice like young thunder.

“Like this?” The Mound-Builder cut the air with an oddly shaped bit of wood swung on an arm’s-length of string, once lightly, like a covey of quail rising, and then loud like a wind in the full-branched forest.

“Just such another. Thrice he swung it so that I might not mistake the sound, and that was the last I saw of him, hugging his five arrows, with the moon gone pale like a meal-cake, and the tame wolves that skulk between the huts for scraps, slinking off as he spoke to them.”

“And did they–the Five Chiefs, I mean–have respect for his arrows?” Dorcas Jane wondered.

“So he told me. They came from all the nine villages and sat in a council ring, each with the elders of his village behind him, and in front his favorite weapon, tied with eagle feathers for enemies he had slain, and red marks for battles, and other signs and trophies. At the head of the circle there was the spear of Long-Hand, and a place left for the one who should be elected to sit in it. But before the Council had time to begin, came Taku-Wakin with his arms folded–though he told me it was to hide how his heart jumped in his bosom–and took his father’s seat. Around the ring of the chiefs and elders ran a growl like the circling of thunder in sultry weather, and immediately it was turned into coughing; every man trying to eat his own exclamation, for, as he sat, Taku laid out, in place of a trophy, the five arrows.