The little Dahcotah was always quarrelling
with the young bears; and on one occasion, being pretty hungry, a cub
annoying him at the time very much, he deliberately shot the cub with
his bow and arrow, and ate him up. This aroused the vengeance of the
bears; they had a consultation among themselves, and swore they would
kill both father and son.
It would be impossible to tell of the troubles of Chaske. His wife, he
could see, loved one of the bears, and was anxious for his own death;
but whenever he contended with the bears he came off victor. Whether in
running a foot race, or shooting with a bow and arrow, or whatever it
might be, he always won the prize, and this made his enemies still
more venomous.
Four years had now passed since Chaske left his native village, and
nothing had ever been heard of him. But at length the wanderer returned.
But who would have recognized, in the crest-fallen, melancholy-looking
Indian, the gay warrior that had left home but a few years before? The
little boy that held his hand was cheerful enough, and seemed to
recognize acquaintances, instead of looking for the first time on the
faces of his father's friends.
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