“As my friend, Little Red Cloud, I ask you once again. What is the matter with my father? It cannot be so simple, when half the tribe gathers outside the entrance to my father’s wigwam. They usually come to talk or seek advice, but now they are silent and their faces are sad. Tell me, Little Red Cloud, what is wrong?” Little Rock could not wait for an answer. He jumped from his pony and ran swiftly toward his father’s wigwam. He was met at the entrance by his mother. “Wait, Little Rock! Do not come in yet. Tall Spear is making medicine for your father. He is very ill.” “I must go to him. He may need me.” Just then the Medicine Man joined Little Rock’s mother. “Your father is asking for you, Little Rock,” the old man said. “You can see him now.” Little Rock stepped inside the wigwam and found his father lying on the great buffalo robe, his head propped up. Great Rock’s face looked drawn and tired and he breathed with great difficulty. As Little Rock knelt beside his father, the sick man’s eyes opened wide. “My son, you have returned.” Great Rock spoke slowly as though each word pained him greatly. “Did you have a good hunt?” “Yes, my father. There was much game and I was able to bring a really fine buck back to our village. He will give us much fine meat, and his skin will make you a fine shirt.” Great Rock closed his eyes for a few moments while Little Rock, his mother, and the Medicine Man waited anxiously in silence. Then Great Rock opened his eyes, wet his lips, and started speaking with great effort again. “That is good, my son. You have learned the ways of the forest well. This was your first trip alone into the great forest, yet you have tracked down a fine buck.” The old chief seemed more tired than before. Little Rock reached for a bowl of soup near by and spooned some of this to his father’s lips. The old man started to sip the soup slowly. Then he raised his hand weakly. “My son, your father is old. Last night this sickness came upon me. I feel that the time is growing near when I shall journey to the Happy Hunting Grounds. I have raised you to be a warrior in our tribe. I have taught you the way of the bear and the way of the fox. You will have to be the man of the family now and provide for your mother.” “But, my father,” said Little Rock, “you must not leave us now. Our tribe and all the Iroquois need you now more than ever before. There is trouble among the tribes. Soon the Great Council will meet. If your seat at the Council is taken by one who is not so wise, the trouble among our tribes will continue and become greater. You must get well, father, for much depends upon you.” “There are others as wise, my son. My voice is but a small breeze in a big windstorm. The men who lead our tribes are wise in the ways of peace. They will make good decisions. Of that I am certain. But now leave me, my son, for I wish to be alone. I am tired and I must rest for the final journey.”