“O my father, I must be truthful, for so you have taught me in my younger days. I have listened and watched patiently each day as I trotted at your heels along the trail and I have locked away in my heart and in my mind all the careful little bits of information you have given to me which would make me a boy worthy to be called the son of Great Cloud. The forest has been a friendly place to me, for I have spent many happy hours there with you. Now I am faced with a decision which I must make here and now, and all I can say to you, father, is that I, Red Cloud, your son, am ready to go into the great forest to await the word from the powers of nature.” Great Cloud placed his hands upon the shoulders of his son and smiling at him said, “You have spoken well, my son. Tomorrow you shall leave for the forest and look for a place where you will not be disturbed. Take with you your weapons and your blanket, but no other goods such as food, for you must fast while you await the dream.” With that Red Cloud departed from the wigwam to prepare for his journey the following morning. There was no sleep for the young Red Cloud that evening, as he thought of his coming trip into the big forest. Finally the early light of dawn peeked through the door of the wigwam and before most of the village was even astir, Red Cloud was up from his bed and had gathered his precious weapons and his blanket for the trip. He bade good-bye to his mother, Morning Star, and his father, Great Cloud, and started for the forest. It was a beautiful morning. The bright sun shone down through the leaves of the great green trees of the forest and the spring flowers were all in gay bloom, dressed in their finest colors of reds, blues, yellows, purples, and oranges. As he trotted along the trail Red Cloud could hear overhead the many different calls and songs of the forest birds. Occasionally there was a rustle along the side of the trail or a rabbit would scamper across the path of Red Cloud. Once through the branch of a low-hanging birch tree, Red Cloud saw the magnificent body of a full-grown buck with six points. Oh, how he regretted that he was not upon a hunting trip, for wouldn’t that buck have made a beautiful trophy to bring back to the village? The buck, too, seemed to be aware of the reason for Red Cloud’s journey, for though the boy moved carefully he did stir the leaves as he walked and though the buck turned his majestic head he did not move from his spot in the glen of the forest. Red Cloud smiled to himself, recalling words of his father, “Sometimes the wild animals seem to sense the reason for your journey and fear not the approach of a warrior who is not on a hunt.” At the time Red Cloud had not thought much about the statement but here beside the trail it had been proved to him by the actions of the majestic buck.