Little Thunder lifted the young fawn in his arms and carried him into the woods where he found a small thicket. Hiding the fawn in the thicket, he returned to the lake and brought some water to the fawn. Then picking up his bow and arrows, he trotted swiftly toward home to tell his mother of his adventure. On the way, a plump rabbit ran across his path. Little Thunder’s shot was easy and accurate. So he brought his mother the big rabbit he had promised—and a big but true story, too. For many days after that, Little Thunder went back with food to his newly found friend. The young fawn soon became strong and was able to frisk about. Soon Little Thunder and the fawn were playing games together in the clearing. He even taught the fawn to come when he whistled. At last, his father returned from the long hunting trip and Little Thunder told him all about his adventure with the young fawn. “This I will have to see for myself,” Big Thunder told the boy. “Tomorrow we shall go together to the thicket in the forest.” So the next morning Little Thunder took his father to the forest, but when they reached the thicket, it was empty. Big Thunder smiled at his son as if to say that the boy had dreamed the whole adventure. “He is probably out frisking in the clearing,” Little Thunder said hastily, “or he’s down at the lake having a drink. He will be back soon. Come, father, we will sit over here and wait.” Though they waited patiently long into the afternoon, the deer did not return. For several days after that, Little Thunder came back to the forest and clearing and lake, but there was no sign of his animal friend. Little Thunder lost all hope of finding the fawn and soon forgot all about him, until one day about twelve moons later. Little Thunder had gone hunting that day and found himself on the trail of a young buck. He followed the buck all morning and just as he was about to give up the trail and return home, he saw the clearing where he had found the fawn. Approaching quietly he looked out across the clearing. At first he could see nothing. Then as he gazed along the side of the clearing near the forest, his eyes stopped at the small thicket. Something moved. Could it be the fawn, he wondered hopefully. Slowly he stood up and moved toward the thicket. Then something stirred again. A beautiful young buck stood up in the thicket. The buck turned to run. Little Thunder whistled and called out softly. The buck stopped, turned and looked at the boy. Then, without fear, the buck ran forward to where Little Thunder stood with his hand outstretched. The animal’s tongue licked the Indian’s hand, and Little Thunder reached up and scratched the young buck’s head. The boy knew that his friend had come back at last. He would have much to talk about to the buck—and even more to tell his father. HOW NOT TO CATCH A FISH