Crying Eagle kept his promise well. Some years later there was trouble between his village and the neighboring tribes. While the young bucks shouted for blood and the scalps of their neighbors, Crying Eagle called for peace and talk. Like his father in battle, he was a brave warrior, but where talk around the council fire could save lives, Crying Eagle was a great leader and peacemaker. Crying Eagle lived to a very old age, but he never forgot that walk through the winter forest with his father Chief Great Eagle, war chief of the mighty Iroquois. Based on a story told to the author by John Fitch, Vermont farmer, 1937. SPOTTED TAIL AND THE GHOST WOLF The Mohawk village of bark houses nestled along the river, and all was peace and contentment in the village. Spotted Tail and his family lived in peace and contentment in the village, for they were a happy people. The hunting and fishing were good and there was little sickness among the people of his tribe and all was made so that the people would be happy. When young Spotted Tail had reached his fifteenth summer, something happened to his tribe. Suddenly the game of the forest became scarce. The deer began to disappear and even the smallest of game was becoming hard to find. This concerned the council, for never before had this happened to their hunting grounds. And then one day while the warriors were busy preparing to go out on the hunt, a young Mohawk warrior staggered into the camp. Blood dripped from his body and as he reached the center of the village he collapsed. Eager hands lifted him and carried him to his house and when his wounds had been bathed the great chief of the Mohawks came to talk with him. “What has happened to you, my brother? Surely this is the work of some great savage beast that you have encountered in the green forest.” “O Great Chief, my companion and I had been following the tracks of a deer and feeling we were quite lucky to have come upon such a find. Suddenly as we trotted along the trail following the deer there was a horrible snarling from off to the side of the trail. We stopped and looked toward the side of the trail, and there before our very eyes was a pack of ferocious-looking wolves. Before we could even draw our bowstrings they were upon us. My companion and I fought them, but soon they had dragged my companion to the ground. They began to fight among themselves over one of their wounded comrades, and it was then that I crawled off into the brush and when I saw my chance I ran as fast as I could toward our village. I could hear the snarls of the pack behind me but I ran as fast as my legs could carry me and soon I heard them no more. But one thing I will always remember is the leader of the pack, a white wolf of tremendous size. He had a beautiful white coat and was much larger than the rest of the pack. I am tired, I must rest now.” And with that the warrior closed his eyes and slept.