There were many among the People who remembered the Hunger Moons in winters before the elk-dog. These were the ones who impressed upon the younger members of the band the urgency of the situation. The gathering of food was an absolute necessity for survival. Without it many of the People would face starvation before the Moon of Greening.
But there were more difficulties. The buffalo, now the staple of the People, had already migrated farther south for the winter, leaving only small scattered bands or lone outcasts. They might be encountered by accident, but an organized large scale hunt was completely impractical. Especially, Heads Off thought grimly, with so few elk-dogs as they now possessed.
Attention turned to the older methods, and youngsters who had never known hunger helped gather some of the old foodstuffs now scorned by the affluent People. Hackberries, their sweet thin layer of fruit scarcely worth the effort, were gathered by the children. They were pounded, seeds and all, into a coarse sticky mash, to be mixed with dried meat and tallow for winter pemmican. Nuts were plentiful, of several varieties. Some were cracked and the rich kernels kneaded into the mixture. Other nuts were simply stored in the shells.
There were large quantities of acorns in the woods, and someone recalled that in hard times gone by, they had been utilized as food. The secret was to boil the bitter kernels repeatedly until
all the acid was leached out. The mealy remains could be dried, or mixed with dried meat for storage.
Squirrels were plentiful. Youths who a few moons ago would have scorned such small game now spent much time stalking with bow and arrow. Rabbits, likewise, became an addition to the everyday fare of the People.
Some of the band reverted to the old custom of eating dogs, but the medicine man attempted to discourage this practice. It was not that White Buffalo objected to the use of dog meat. He enjoyed a fat haunch of roast dog as much as anyone.
“But the dogs must be saved,” he scolded. “They can be used in the time of snows when times are hard.”
A few ignored the medicine man’s warning, but most of the People agreed. There would be no easier way to obtain fresh meat in the Moon of Snows. Perhaps, no other way.
The pitiful piles of provisions grew slowly. Sometimes it seemed that despite all the industry the band was showing more supplies were consumed than were gathered. The volume of meat supplied by the kill of large animals such as buffalo was sorely missed. Heads Off began to wonder if a short foray onto the plains might not be an answer. If a few buffalo could be found, it would provide great benefit.
He spoke to Coyote, who was very cautious.
“I do not know, Heads Off.” He shook his head. “The Head Splitters may be waiting.”
Irritated by the resumption of run-and-hide thinking, the young chief still had to admit that his father-in-law was right. He had once made the near fatal error of dividing his force. He must not do so again. The safety of the band depended on his decisions.
Tall One had recovered her strength rapidly. The owl-eyed infant, who already seemed to possess the wisdom of the ages, was rapidly gaining size. Owl was more solemn and reserved than
his smiling and outgoing older brother. The big dark eyes, so like those of Tall One, his father noted, seemed to observe and consider all things. It was almost as if, Heads Off reflected, the infant realized the dangers of having been born practically in the heat of battle. He wondered idly whether this would make the child a great warrior. Then he smiled to himself. His thought processes were becoming more like those of his wife’s people all the time. Anyway, this tiny infant already appeared to be more a thinker than a warrior. How early a child’s personality makes itself known, he thought.
He looked around at their older son, Eagle, playing actively with a small bow and arrow. The youngster had indicated without a doubt that he preferred this activity to that of gathering nuts.
The gaze of Heads Off lifted to the sentry on the hilltop. It had been decided to keep a lookout constantly on watch. Piles of brush had been prepared, to be lighted as an alarm at a moment’s notice. So far, there had been nothing to report.
The young chief himself had taken his turn at the lookout. To do so was actually against his background and training, but there were several reasons.
He wished to be completely informed, and could remain so more easily if he were a participant. Their numbers were limited and his presence would make things easier on the other warriors in turn. He also felt that active participation would ensure the continued respect of the younger warriors.
When he got right down to ultimate reasons, however, Heads Off knew why he chose to stand his turn at lookout. Even as a cadet, the long hours on sentry duty had been not unpleasant for him. The hours of darkness just before dawn were his favorite time to be on lookout. There was time to think, to enjoy the quiet of the prairie, quiet yet busy with a myriad of little night sounds.
Finally the blackness in the eastern sky would fade to pale
gray, then yellow, and the incomparable beauty of the prairie sunrise would unfold before his eyes.
It was on such a morning a few suns later that Heads Off sighted something of importance. It was not quite full daylight yet, just the tip of Sun Boy’s torch showing above earth’s rim.
He was watching the earth sleepily come alive. Below him in the village, smoke of cooking fires was beginning to rise from the apex of some of the lodges.
A great blue heron stood in a quiet pool of the stream beyond, head cocked to one side and still as a statue, waiting for a movement in the water.
A dog yapped lazily. A man came out of his lodge, yawned and stretched, and walked around behind the lodge to urinate. To watch the quiet peace of the pastoral scene below, one would never guess that within a few moons this band might easily be fighting for survival. Fighting against Cold Maker, against starvation, and quite possibly, against the enemy. The Head Splitters must know their predicament now, and also know where they were camped for the winter. He had been somewhat surprised that there had been no overt attack since they retreated into these makeshift winter quarters.
At the thought, he swept the horizon with his gaze for one more of many times. He stopped short at a hint of distant movement to the north, attention fixed.
Through a distant pass between two low hills, he could see something moving. He studied for a few heartbeats, and verified his impression. The deliberate, casual nature of the motion told him that there were animals, grazing animals, on the prairie. He thought of buffalo, but the pattern was wrong. Horses?
No, he saw, as the big animals grazed closer and became close enough for color to be distinguished. Not buffalo, or horses, but elk!
In some places almost as numerous as the buffalo, elk ranged in loose, far-spread herds across the prairie. This appeared to be a large group, slowly moving almost directly toward the camp. Anxiously, Heads Off watched as the animals straggled slowly through the gap and spilled out across the plain. This herd, he realized, might make the difference in survival for the People.
One major problem nagged at him. The behavior of elk did not permit hunting them efficiently from horseback. Elk were swift and agile, and would not run straight away from a horse, as buffalo did.
A hunt on foot, using the old methods, must be quickly organized. He slipped down the hill and hurried into camp.