Tail Feather: Adventures of a Mohawk Paddler on the River-That-Flows-Two-Ways

By Ray E. Phillips

Tail Feather the first book in The River Quintet series, is the story of a young Mohawk who leaves his village in the Adirondack Mountains and paddles down what we now know as the Hudson River to the Island of Manhattan. We learn it is the year 1613 w

• Language: English
• Publisher: Quill Publications
• Release date: Apr 20, 2024
• ISBN: 9798989906215

Ray E. Phillips

Ray E. Phillips enjoyed a long career in which he combined both writing and medicine. As a physician he specialized in cardiovascular disease, family medicine, and community health care. He founded a small foundation that enabled him to travel overseas to undertake medical projects, including in Bangladesh and Nepal. Born and raised in Massachusetts, he spent his adult life close to the Hudson River with whose history and natural beauty he fell in love. He explored it extensively as a hiker, paddler, sailor, and reader. In his own writings he was determined to evoke and pay tribute to the unending dramas played out in the lives of its human and natural denizens across the centuries.

Book preview

TailFeather-Cover.jpg

Book 1

of

The River Quintet

Young Lives in a Changing World

TitlePage

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Preface

Special Thanks

Map of the Hudson River

Part 1: The Story of Tail Feather

A Message of Giving Thanks (by Kenneth Little Hawk)

Chapter 1: Man-Like‐Deer

Chapter 2: The Dream

Chapter 3: The Feather

Chapter 4: The Beaver

Chapter 5: Stones-That-Spark

Chapter 6: The Cloud-Splitter

Chapter 7: The Festival

Chapter 8: The Loon

Chapter 9: Outward Bound

Chapter 10: White Water

Chapter 11: Beauty and Danger

Chapter 12: The Fire Dance

Chapter 13: The Bear

Chapter 14: The Sky Flower

Chapter 15: The River-That-Flows-Two-Ways

Chapter 16: The Marsh

Chapter 17: Little Brother of War

Chapter 18: The Squall

Chapter 19: Fish-Bigger-Than-a-Man

Chapter 20: The Snow Goose

Chapter 21: Rocks-Like-Trees

Chapter 22: The Healers

Chapter 23: The Owl

Chapter 24: Horizons

Chapter 25: Homeward Bound

Prayer to the Great Spirit

Part II: Notes About the Story

List of Notes

Notes

Copyright

Preface

Have you ever imagined living in the long-ago world of the Native American, immersed in the beauty of unblemished nature? Can you put yourself into the place of a Woodlands Indian, whose moccasins step silently through the sun-dappled forest? Or whose paddle guides a birchbark canoe past a great waterfall crowned by a rainbow? You can, as you follow the journey of an eager youth, Tail Feather, who finds along the way storied places told about by elders in the night stories. Here, before the time of modern conveniences, the beauty, rigors, surprises and joys of this time and place are shared.

The journey takes the canoes from the Adirondack Mountains at the headwaters of the Hudson River to an island at the river’s mouth that we call Manhattan. It is punctuated by a succession of mishaps and splendid sights along the way. You soon learn that life long ago in the northern woodlands and waterways was not idyllic. Yet cope with the raw elements of nature, the First People did.

The people of the story share hardships, dangers, pleasures, and disappointments that bring out emotions and values not unlike those experienced by people today. The youthful Tail Feather must deal with the crossed feelings of self-confidence and self-doubt that are a natural part of growing up, then as now. Perhaps you, too, have had such mixed feelings and maybe have made some unwise decisions? If so, you would then understand Tail Feather’s predicaments. As his journey downriver proceeds, however, he discovers much about the world around him.

He also discovers something about himself; it is another kind of journey: making the rigorous transition between childhood and adulthood.

The setting of Tail Feather is one of the most history‐rich waterways in the modern world. We realize that the time is the early 17th century, defined when the astonished paddlers come upon a Dutch sailing ship. Nearly all the diverse geographical features of the river can be seen today, relatively unchanged and easily imagined as they were 400 years ago.

Part II: Notes About the Story contains extensive information on many subjects that arise in the story. There are discussions of geography, wildlife, history, anthropology, even medicine, to help enrich an appreciation of Tail Feather’s adventures. The Notes also offer a guide to what we can still see today along his journey.

In a world shrunk by packaged safaris and documentary videos of far-away lands, this book attempts to recreate the mystique of exotic places here in our own backyards. By reliving as best we can the lives of the First People in future America, the STORY connects the values and passions common to our own world; the factual NOTES are meant to enhance the sense of awareness of our surroundings.

On a personal note, I have paddled, sailed, and put-putted the river from beginning to end. Afoot, I have explored the mountains at the source and its tributaries, craggy shores and riparian flatlands. Two of my most memorable experiences include a rest stop in the tall grass at Lake-Tear-of-the-Clouds near the peak of Mount Marcy and the duty as lookout in the crow’s nest of Henry Hudson’s replica ship, the Half Moon, as it sailed through the Hudson Highlands. In all these wanderings, the young Tail Feather seems to be just beyond sight. Perhaps my writing provides a venue to revisit my childhood fantasies: a lone, make-believe Indian silently high‐stepping my way through the tall underbrush and ferns and along the streams of my native woodland patch in rural Massachusetts, longing to find any wild creature willing to converse.

Book 1 is the first of a series of integrated stories that take us to other waterways and ways of life as they are imagined in the 17th century. As they proceed to Book 5 the stories become progressively more complex and appropriate for the more advanced reader.

—R.E.P.

Feather

Special Thanks

— to those people who helped broadcast Tail Feather on multi-cultural radio stations WPAT and WNSW between 2002 and 2005:

Joanne Shenandoah* (Oneida), singer

Phoebe Legere (Wampanoag), singer

Mike Tarbell (Mohawk), interpreter, The Iroquois Museum, Howes Cave, NY

Chief Jake Swamp* (Mohawk), Hogansburg, NY

Former Chief John Talking Leaves* (Lenape-Ramapo)

Julie Sorenson, interpreter at the Iroquois Longhouse, The Farmer’s Museum, Cooperstown, NY

Anne Clothier, Director of Education, Brookside Museum, Ballston Spa, NY

Nancy Showak, Director, Greenbrook Nature Sanctuary, Palisades Park, NJ

Laurie Franklin, crew member of the Half Moon replica ship

Suzanne Johnson, Administrator, Hudson River Maritime Museum, Kingston, NY

Steven Ruff, Hudson River Museum, Yonkers, NY

Christopher Letts, Educator, Hudson River Foundation for Science and Environmental Research, New York, NY

Loren Duffy, Interpreter, South Street Seaport Museum, New York, NY

John Vargo, Editor, Boating on the Hudson

Judith Holzer, surgical nurse

Thomas Wysmuller*, historian and V.P. New Netherland Museum and Jannine Wysmuller

Dr. Alberto Melonie, Director, Institute for American Indian Studies, Washington, CT

Phillips family members, Wendy, Samuel, and Julia Kahn.

*In memoriam

Feather

I am deeply grateful to all those people who have contributed their advice, assistance and constructive criticism to the creation of The River Quintet:

Kenneth Little Hawk, Mi’kmaq-Mohawk storyteller

William Chip Reynolds,

(formerly) Captain of the Half Moon replica ship

Janny Venema, author and Dutch translator (formerly) Associate Director, New Netherland Research Center, Albany, N.Y

Walter Woodward, Connecticut State Historian

Stefan Nicolescu, Research Scientist and Collections Manager, Division of Mineralogy and Meteoritics, Yale Peabody Museum of Natural History, New Haven, CT

Barrie Kavasch, author, Institute for American Indian Studies, Washington, CT

Teachers at the American School for the Deaf, West Hartford, CT

The late Frank Kozelek, Sleepy Hollow, N.Y.

Research staff at various libraries, including those at Kent Lakes, Corinth and Glens Falls, N.Y., Windsor, CT, and Shepperton, England

Joan G. Sheeran and Wendy Phillips Kahn, editors

Sophie Seypura and Arturo Aguirre, illustrators

Patrick Seypura, digital publisher.

—R.E.P

This reissued and corrected version of Tail Feather was prepared and published following the death of Ray Phillips in July, 2021. The editors have made minor changes and proofreading corrections and now offer this edition in loving memory of the author. Throughout the writing of The River Quintet Ray Phillips devoted himself to bringing history alive with accuracy and compassion.

—Joan G. Sheeran and Wendy Phillips Kahn

The Hudson River

MapOfTheHudsonRiver

PART I

The Story of Tail Feather

A Message of Giving Thanks

We are related to the water that comes down from above and to the rivers upon which we journey, the rivers that have fed our ancestors and our children.

The tiny mountain stream seeks its way to the great ocean, just as we must find our path through life. The lessons we learn along the way are the fruits that nurture our spirits.

A single blade of grass growing closest to the bosom of Mother Earth can teach us strength, healing, energy, and humility. We need only be ready to receive its wisdom.

In the shade of branches of the tree reaching high toward the Great Sky Spirit, we find a message of giving thanks for all the beauty in front of us, all the beauty behind us, all the beauty above us, and all the beauty around us.

By Kenneth Little Hawk (Mi’kmaq and Mohawk)

Chapter 1

Man-Like-Deer

A steady, piercing bark shattered the stillness of early morning. KyKoo bounded through the snow. Her dark gray form sped past the longhouses and through the meeting circle until she came to a high wall of standing tree trunks with branches twisted tightly around them. Rising on her hind legs, she thrashed at the wall frantically with her front paws.

Just behind KyKoo scurried a rolled-up, black bearskin with frosty breath rising out from the top. Leather-covered feet made fast, crunching sounds in the snow. When the running figure came to the wall, two bare arms reached out of the bulky wrap and picked up a climbing pole. Hurriedly, the arms leaned the pole against the wall and the feet shimmied upward on the notches made for toes.

From inside the bearskin a wide-eyed face of thirteen—almost fourteen—winters of age popped out. This was Tail Feather, who belonged to a clan of the woodland people. [1] The thick wall of sharp pointed tree trunks stuck firmly in the ground to protect their village. [2] It was here within the wall that a clan of Mohawks lived together in a cluster of bark-covered houses. The village lay nestled in the Adirondack mountains near a long, narrow lake. [3] It was a place they called Tahawus.

Soon, many sleepy heads poked out of the longhouses looking for the cause of all the commotion. [4] People began to stream outside and gather along the wall, pulling their capes tightly around them against the bitter cold. They watched the shaggy form on top of the row of pointed logs and waited impatiently.

What do you see, Tail Feather? shouted one.

From beneath the bearskin atop the wall a voice rang out: A running man. [5] Quickly, the climbing pole was pushed upward. Tail Feather pulled it toward him, hand over hand, until the pole toppled over to the other side, awaiting arrival of the running man. KyKoo had done her part. Now, she just sat calmly, staring up at the boy.

The bundled-up people stomped their feet and pumped their arms against their sides to keep warm. Puffs of steam formed above every head. But curiosity kept them there, stomping and pumping and puffing, eager to see their visitor.

First, a bare hand appeared from the other side of the wall. It grasped the pointed end of a stake. Another hand followed, this one clutching two snowshoes. Next, came a head with frosted eyebrows. Flecks of ice trailed off long, rumpled hair. Two white feathers stood slanted upward behind a wide, red headband. A burden strap lay across the forehead to hold the basket that slung across his back. Then, a leg clad in a knee-high boot was hurled over the wall. The running man now straddled the high fence. Every eye waited for his next move.

The visitor dropped his snowshoes one at a time onto a deep snowbank just inside the wall. He brought his backpack basket around in front of him and let it fall as well. Then in one smooth motion, he flung a leg around, jumped to the ground, and landed on the hard-packed snow with a shock-absorbing bend of the knees. He took a few long and bold steps forward and stopped just before the crowd of onlookers. There, the visitor stood—erect as a tree—his heels together and his arms raised toward the sky.

In the biting cold, the runner wore only a light deerskin shirt that hung to his knees. Underneath there were leggings. Yet, he did not shiver, not even a trifle. His face was long and thin with ruddy cheeks. A black tattoo in the shape of an elm leaf outlined his mouth and broad nose. His nostrils flared with every breath. A slender body and long thin legs made his movement seem as fleet and as sure as that of a deer. With his arms outstretched and his fingers widespread like antlers, he took on the look of a full-grown stag.

Tail Feather, from his high perch, saw it all. There below him stood the person he always wanted to be. The thrill of seeing Man-Like-Deer who came from far away to his village sent prickles through his whole body.

Despite all the excitement, no one talked. No one moved. Soon, Red Sun appeared from among the longhouses. With an unhurried stride, he walked straight toward the running man. Red Sun wore his headdress with antlers proper for a chief and a long cloak of turkey feathers. [6] Spread across one shoulder was a splendid sash of white and purple beads. Chief Red Sun stopped a step or two in front of the running man. He, too, raised his arms upward. Red Sun then lowered his arms to shoulder height and folded them tightly in front. So greeted, the running man did the same.

It was the man from far away who spoke first: My name is Restless Wings. I come from Sparkling Waters far beyond your setting sun. I come in peace. My people are the Senecas. They send gifts from our lands to your people. He spoke words in a way that sounded strange to most ears. But since he spoke slowly, everyone understood.

Red Sun waited a moment, then answered, separating each word with a short pause. You are welcome to our village. We share the riches of our land with your people. First, you must rest and refresh your body. You have come far with no food and little sleep for many days.

The welcoming party acted quickly. One stoked embers at the meeting post that still smoldered from the night fire. Soon after, orange flames licked upward. Another brought hides and spread them over the snow. Yet another wrapped a heavy fur robe around the visitor. A woman with long braided hair draped over one shoulder offered a steaming cup of sassafras tea. [7] The crowd, remaining silent, huddled around their guest.

Restless Wings crouched on his knees, his feet tucked beneath him. He closed his eyes and took a long, deep breath. He tipped his head back. Then, with both hands, he raised the cup and slowly sipped the fragrant drink. Between sips, he appeared to be in a motionless trance. It was as if the pressing circle of people had vanished, and the running man was in a world by himself.

All at once, the stranger thrust aside his emptied cup and sprang up. The crowd closed in. He lifted his pack basket. He turned it over so that everything inside spilled out onto a hide. People gasped at the many pieces of brown rocks before them.

Youthful eyes peeked out of hoods in wonderment. One child whispered between cupped hands to another, Why all this bother over a few chunks of rocks?

They are not just rocks, came the reply, with her hand against his ear. They are rocks made of copper. [8]

Restless Wings had completed his side of the exchange. Now it was time for him to recover from his long journey. People did everything they could to nourish his body. Huge servings of meat and beans and of corn biscuits dipped in maple syrup were brought to him to restore his strength. He savored every morsel.

In a few days, the runner would return home along the same well-worn path he had come. In place of copper, his pack would carry flint and beads made from shells. This trading between nations had been a custom honored longer than anyone could remember.

The coming of Restless Wings stirred excitement in every child of the village. His was the first new face seen since the snow began to fall. Did he come from the other side of the world? What strange places had he visited? Young ears could hardly wait to hear the thrilling stories that the running man was sure to tell.

In the days that followed, children big and little tagged behind their visitor wherever he went. They showered him with questions. Some shrieked with delight even to touch him as he passed by them. The older boys stayed closest to him, taking every occasion to show how strong and nimble they were. One of the braver ones mischievously tweaked the long scalp lock of Restless Wings from behind and was rewarded with a playful growl and good-natured laughter.

Among the children, the gaze of Restless Wings kept returning to two girls who had the same face. He saw that they were always together, arm in arm. They laughed at the same time. They wore their hair braided in the same way. The quillwork on their headbands matched exactly. Are you a reflection of each other? he asked them. Are my eyes under a magic spell? The matching girls ran giggling to hide behind a cluster of nearby children.

Even the twins’ brother, Tail Feather, could not persuade them to overcome their shyness. Your eyes see true, running man, he replied timidly. But, they are just my sisters.

Do they have the same name?

No.

The blushing twins peeked from behind Tail Feather.

What do you call them?

One is Laughing Rain. The other is named Awakens Corn. The voice grew bolder. Sometimes even I cannot tell them apart.

Slowly, the children felt more familiar with the stranger. They coaxed Restless Wings into telling many stories about his life in his own village. One bright, sunny, and windless day, they bunched up around a fire at the meeting circle. The runner man sat before them.

How long did you run to reach our village?

From my village to yours the sun rose and fell five times.

What is your village like?

My village is near a lake so big that you cannot see the other side. Eyes widened from surprise. No matter how cold it gets in winter, he went on, the lake never freezes. [9] Eyes opened wider still.

Do the people who live there plant corn and beans and squash?

Yes, but we work our biggest gardens from canoes. The young crowd gulped in disbelief. Men paddle through tall grass that grows along the shore of our lake and strike the tops with long sticks. Tiny kernels fall from the tops into the canoe. Women boil the kernels in water and then bake them with many spices to make cakes. The story of canoe-farming stretched every imagination.

Do you have any children? one of the younger listeners asked.

Yes, a small, just-walking girl.

What is her name? asked another.

We call her Babbling Brook because she talks or sings all the time. Already, she can say many words. She cried when I left our village to come here. She will have a new brother or sister before my return.

Do you ever get tired when you run so far? came another question.

No. My body knows how to run just fast enough for a long journey.

Do you get hungry?

Sometimes.

What do you eat along the way?

I bring journey cakes. My wife takes the kernels from lake grass, pounds them into a powder, sprinkles in berries and nuts and bakes them in smoke to taste better.

Tell us about all the places you have been, sounded a chorus of high-pitched voices.

That would take a long time. Restless Wings looked around him. What he saw were many pairs of eager eyes pleading for stories of mysterious places. I will do my best.

The crowd hushed and waited.

"Once, I saw Water-That-Makes-Thunder. [10] There lies the land of the Niagaras where the Great Spirit gives us all the water that fills the lakes and the rivers and the streams. The water comes from far away mountains where even the sun of summer does not melt away all the snow. Water flows in a boiling river and drops over a mountain-high cliff. It falls with an earthshaking roar into a never-ending mist. People who live there say that the Great Spirit lives in the hollow behind the shield of falling water."

There was hardly a stir among the listeners.

"Along a great waterway called Long River, which is far from here, I saw a game played with curved sticks. [11] All the men from one village fought against all the men from another. Bodies and sticks battered each other for a whole day. The battle was fierce. Many were hurt, but no one was killed. Do you know what they fought for? No one in the crowd could even imagine an answer. They fought for a leather ball."

Not a body in the crowd moved.

"There is a place not far from here called ‘Blowing Rock.’ Cool air rises beneath the rock from deep inside the earth, even in the scorching heat of summertime. [12] Behind the rock, there is a cave that leads down into a deep canyon. The canyon underground is bigger than all your longhouses placed together. Inside the canyon is a blackness that is blacker than the blackest night. A river of cold water flows through it. With a torch, you can see giant, queer-shaped animals with strange, bumpy heads and crooked legs. You can see icicles there as big as trees. All of them are made of stone."

By now, it was the listeners—thinking of a river filled with weird creatures in caves that lie just beneath their feet—who had turned to stone.

But the strangest story that Restless Wings had to tell surprised even the elders of the clan. Only last summer, men with hairy faces and long, black robes came from the Long River to my village. They spoke about a new Great Spirit. They said their spirit was the only one in the Universe. Anyone who believed in their spirit and in no other one would live happily after dying, wandering forever among the stars. [13]

A little voice came from the midst of the Children‐Like-Rocks. What did the Hairy-Faced-People say about the spirit of the trees and the spirit of the stars and the spirit of the streams?

Another voice, even tinier, added, And the spirit of Brother Deer?

The answer was simple, They did not speak of the spirits of our forest, sky and water. They said these beliefs are wrong. Such a disturbing story quickly stirred the listeners to life again. It was so different from everything they knew about the world that the story was soon forgotten.

After many days, Restless Wings was ready to return to Sparkling Waters. On the evening before his departure, he stood before the people of the village who had crowded into the big council house. Little children seemed to peer out of every corner and around and between every pair of long legs for a better look at what was going on.

Chief Red Sun, regaled in antlers and turkey feathers, presented a sash of woven seashells to Restless Wings. "With this wampum belt, we pledge friendship with your people. [14] The arrows on the belt are like the copper pieces that you bring to us. The flame on it will remind you that the flame that cooks your food and warms your houses comes from our stones of flint. Give this belt to your chief at Sparkling Waters. On it, he will see how our arms are spread across the mountains to embrace your people in peace and good faith."

It was Restless Wings’ turn to speak: I will take your words of seashells to the Seneca chief. He will understand your message. It is my honor to serve you both. I will tell him of the kindness of your people. [15]

The voice of Red Sun then deepened into a solemn prayer. May the Great‐Maker‐of-All hear our words and guide you safely home. With these words, the clan scattered for the night.

As Restless Wings set his traveling basket and snowshoes by the entry flap of his longhouse, ready for morning, he felt a sharp tug on his sleeve. Restless Wings whipped around. Standing boldly before him in the shimmering light of the distant meeting place fire was a tall boy, nearly his own height, with a serious look. A long shock of bushy hair streamed over one shoulder. It was the boy-almost-a-man who had greeted him on top of the wall of trees, the one who had the Same‐Face‐Sisters.

Next to the boy stood a gray wolf with only one ear. Its yellow eyes glowed eerily in the moonlight.

My name is Tail Feather, came a firm, manly voice which cracked a little at the end. I will run with you to Sparkling Waters. KyKoo can come, too. She likes to go to new places.

Too taken aback to answer at first, Restless Wings paused for a moment, then brought himself up to full height, saying, Why do you want to go so far from your home? It is a long and hard journey. You are not ready yet for such a hard run. No,… no, you cannot go with me.

No! thought Tail Feather. How could he say such a thing? I can run like the wind. I am not afraid of the forest. I like the cold. My grandfather has taught me how to travel in snow. I will cause no trouble. I must see all the things you told us about. I will become a great runner, too. He tried to speak these thoughts all at the same time, but his tongue seemed to become tangled deep inside his throat.

Restless Wings waited for an answer. All he heard was, Because I want to.

No. Stay in your village for now, Tail Feather, was the firm reply. Wait until you are older and stronger. Wait until you have readied yourself by running every day. In the dim light, Restless Wings watched the youthful face change from boundless eagerness to deep despair, the eyes that had sparkled with anticipation suddenly turn dull with gloom.

The running man explained, You cannot run for many days without rest. The body learns to do that little by little over a long, long time. And you will find out soon enough how empty you feel when you leave your family and friends. Also, there are many dangers along the way.

But I must go with you! was the steadfast reply.

No, Tail Feather. I will be happy to travel the path to Sparkling Waters with you when your body is ready. Until then, take an easier journey. Men of your village speak of travel far away to Water‐with‐No‐End as soon as the snow thaws. Their canoes carry copper from our lake and flint from your mountain streams to exchange for beads made from seashells. Go with them. Paddling down a river is easier than running through a snow-covered forest. You will be with friends all the way. A journey by water is better for you now. You must believe me.

With these words, Restless Wings held out his bent arm to Tail Feather. The boy hooked his own arm around that of Restless Wings. It was an honored sign of lasting friendship. Not more than an instant later, Restless Wings disappeared behind the animal skin curtain that led into the longhouse.

For a long time, Tail Feather stood motionless as if frozen solid in the cold night air, lost in thought. Then, in excited tones, he found his voice, KyKoo, listen. Listen to me! The running man will change his mind by morning. I am sure he will. He took a deep breath and puffed out a long, frosty cloud. He crouched down beside the wolf, as if to make his words stronger, We will talk to him again as soon as the sun pushes back the night. Eyes met eyes, up close. This time, he will say ‘yes’.

With life renewed, Tail Feather turned to go. KyKoo tilted her head to one side and pulled her ear back. Tail Feather knew that she was thinking about his wonderful plan. Beaming with confidence, he hurried toward the warmth of his own longhouse. As she always did on a winter’s night, KyKoo curled up in a snowy hollow just outside the entrance.

Even before the sun peeked over the far hills, Tail Feather crept out of his bearskin and on tiptoes slipped past his still slumbering family. As he emerged from behind the hide flap of the longhouse, KyKoo was there to greet him with a hushed yelp. Together, they rushed to find Restless Wings.

At the entry way of his lodge, there was no sign of his flint-loaded basket. His snowshoes no longer stood there. What they found instead were fresh footprints that led away from the longhouse.

Without a moment’s hesitation they ran to the wall at the far end of the village. All they found there was a climbing pole leaning against the closely staked fence. Tail Feather, speechless and downcast, wrapped both arms around the pole for support. It was as if, in a clear sky, the darkest, icy rain cloud suddenly appeared overhead and snuffed out his soul.

Chapter 2

The Dream

Suddenly, the sorrowful face of Tail Feather brightened. KyKoo! I have an idea! We can follow the running man! With newfound excitement, he picked up the forelegs of the wolf and danced her wildly around in a small circle. Restless Wings carries a heavy pack, and we can catch him. I know we can. But we must go now. With a woof, KyKoo seemed to pick up his spirit.

Tail Feather lifted the wolf with outstretched arms and started to climb up the climbing pole, facing away from the pole while clutching his wiggling burden. Hold still, KyKoo. He carefully placed his heels into toeholds chipped along the pole.

Slowly, the two reached the top. Huffing with his heavy load, Tail Feather looked over the wall. The buffeting wind had made a huge snowdrift on the ground just below them. Look, KyKoo, you can see a hollow in the snow where the running man jumped! I don’t think it was long ago. KyKoo only whined. With no further hesitation, Tail Feather said, Now it is your turn, and, with this thought, tossed the wide-eyed wolf over the pointed stake tops into the snowbank. An instant later, he followed with an ungraceful leap.

Both jumper and wolf struggled for a moment to free themselves from the deep snow with a goodly amount of twisting, rocking, pulling, laughing and yelping. When they broke out of the snowbank and came to packed snow, Tail Feather said with firm voice, Now we must go as fast as we can, KyKoo.

Following the clear footprints that led into the forest, they started out at a loping pace to catch up with Restless Wings. Their soft steps hardly broke the silence in a world of snow-laden trees.

If Tail Feather had been the unhappiest creature in the whole world a moment ago, he was now the most joyful. The hard‐packed snow was easy to run on. The rising sun behind them felt warmer with each step. The wide-spaced footprints of Restless Wings were clear enough. The running man runs like a deer, but he will find out how fast we can go in the forest, were words spoken with no hint of breathlessness. Do you think, KyKoo, he will be surprised to see us?

On and on the pair went, through dense underbrush, over and under fallen trees, up hills, into valleys, across splashing streams and over boulders. But the pace was slowing. Their feet sank deeper and deeper into the drifted snow. Ahead, the footprints that they followed changed into snowshoe tracks. The tracks seemed to skim across the forest floor while Tail Feather just plodded along.

Worse yet, it began to snow. The snowfall came in flurries at first but soon it changed to huge, soggy flakes that stuck to branches and to patches of moss. The sun slowly faded from the sky. We must hurry, KyKoo, before the snow covers the tracks. Runner and grizzled companion pressed onward.

Snow fell heavier and heavier. It quickly buried the prints of snowshoes. Tail Feather felt his legs begin to ache. His chest tightened in the cold air, and he began to feel each breath. The deeper snow made him tire quickly. When he stopped to rest, he felt the cold. The truth was slow to come,