One morning while Jim was helping Wahbunou’s mother skin some squirrels, Wahbunou wandered away on some mission of his own. Wahbunou didn’t like to work; he specially didn’t want to skin squirrels, so he always managed to get away when his mother needed him. He was gone only a few minutes, however, then came rushing back. “Jim. Jim, Chief Minnemung wants to see you at once.” Jim put down a squirrel and looked up. “Chief Minnemung? Where is he? I wonder what he wants.” Wahbunou pointed to a group of men under a tree. “He’s over there. See? Talking with my father and some of the other men.” Jim turned to Wahbunou’s mother. “I’ll be back soon. Chief Minnemung wants to speak to me.” Then he walked over toward the group of men. At his approach the men nodded and walked away from their chief. Minnemung smiled at Jim and motioned for him to sit down beside him. “Jim,” he said, laying his hand on the boy’s arm, “I have been watching you all winter and spring. Now I have come to a great decision.” Jim waited, wondering what the old man would say next. Chief Minnemung leaned toward the boy, his brown eyes stern and serious. “I have decided to adopt you as my own son.” “Adopt me!” Jim gasped, a chill of fear passing over him. The old chief continued as though Jim had not spoken. “I lost my only son two years ago with a fever. That fever took four of our most promising young men. I have been lonely, very lonely in my wigwam. But I have watched you all during the time you have been with us. I remember also that you saved my life on that hunting trip when I did not know how to use the rifle of the _Shemolsea_.” Chief Minnemung did not take his eyes from the trembling boy. “But the greatest test of all you passed easily. You did not belittle me in front of my clan by telling them that you killed the black bear.” Jim was startled. He hadn’t realized that Minnemung would have lost the esteem of his clan if the Indians discovered Jim had really killed the bear. “So you see,” Chief Minnemung continued, “you have proved yourself worthy of adoption into the Potawatomi tribe as my son.” “Adoption,” Jim murmured. It was the last gift he wanted, because it would mean he would be forever cut off from his own people. “But sir—” he began. “We shall have the adoption ceremonies when the clans gather early in the fall,” the chief said. “I just wanted to tell you of this honor which awaits you.” Chief Minnemung nodded his head in dismissal. “That is all.” Jim stumbled back; Wahbunou and his mother were still working with the squirrel skins. “What’s the matter, Jim?” Wahbunou asked, when he caught sight of Jim’s stricken face. “Was Chief Minnemung angry with you? And for what?” Jim shook his head. “No, he wasn’t angry. He wanted to tell me that he is going to adopt me as his son in the fall.” Wahbunou dropped the skin he was cleaning. “Chief Minnemung is going to adopt you!” Wahbunou clapped Jim on the back. “Why, that means you’ll be the son of a chief.”