After a few minutes, the buck squealed his signal, and he was joined by a party of four does and one young buck. “Wait till they stop to drink,” Hawk whispered, raised his rifle, and set his front sight on one of the does. “You take that young buck. All right?” Swift Runner nodded. When the deer went down to the edge of the water and stopped to drink, both hunters pulled their triggers. Hawk knocked one down, cranked another cartridge in, and downed a second one, while Swift Runner’s shot hit the young buck in his haunch, crippling him. The rest of the deer bolted across the creek with the wounded buck trying to hobble after them. With a third cartridge already in the chamber, Hawk quickly brought the buck down.

“I did not kill him,” Swift Runner cried out, disappointed with his performance.

“You did good,” Hawk said. “You hit him and that’s real good for your first shot with that rifle. You just haven’t gotten to know that rifle yet. I’da most likely done the same thing if I was shootin’ that rifle for the first time. Let’s go put ’em outta their misery.”

* * *

Since the deer hunters were but a few hours’ ride from the Blackfoot camp, Hawk decided to throw the carcasses on their horses and take them back there to skin and butcher. He figured they might as well go where there was plenty of willing help to prepare the meat. He had in mind delivering the supply of fresh meat, then saying a quick farewell, anxious to get back on Booth’s trail. With Swift Runner’s help, he loaded the buck and the smaller doe on the extra horse. The other doe was loaded onto Rascal with him.

When they rode into camp, the reception was as he expected from the near-starving people. Everyone was eager to help, so all he had to do was unload the deer and Wounded Bear’s people did the rest. He stood and watched for a few minutes while Swift Runner talked excitedly about the place to find deer so near their village. Ready to leave, Hawk prepared to say good-bye to old Wounded Bear, but he was delayed when the women of the camp came to thank him. Each one was eager to thank him for his help. Waiting for the other women to thank him, Walks Along, Black Elk’s wife, wanted to thank him again for bringing her husband and son back to her. “I wish that I could cook you a really fine meal to show you how much I appreciate your kindness.” She shook her head sadly, then said, “But we have had no flour, or salt, or sugar, or cornmeal for a long time. And we used what flour you had last night.”