Grey Squirrel leaned over to look at the injured leg more closely. The buck apparently had run into some heavy brambles and a large thorn had lodged in the soft part of the leg just above the hoof, which had become infected and had begun to fester. Grey Squirrel took his knife from his belt and pressed the point of the blade into the flesh beside the thorn. The buck’s leg quivered slightly. Then the thorn and a misty fluid spurted from the wound. Grey Squirrel took wet leaves and mud from the bed of the stream and laid them over the wound. All through this operation the buck lay still, allowing Grey Squirrel to do as he pleased. The animal continued to lie there quietly as though waiting for any more help the Indian might gave him. Grey Squirrel went back to the stream and, cupping his hands, brought some cool water for the animal. The buck drank it eagerly. A long time passed while Grey Squirrel kept vigil over the resting buck. Occasionally as he moved to another position, the buck would follow him with his eyes; when Grey Squirrel settled down again, the buck would put his head back on the earth and he too would rest again. Finally, dusk drew near and it began to darken in the forest. As if by signal, the buck arose, tested his injured leg, glanced at Grey Squirrel, and started for the protection of the dense trees. Grey Squirrel called and the buck stopped at the edge of the woods and turned to look back. He cocked his head to one side as if to say “thank you,” and then moved into the thick woods and out of sight. Grey Squirrel suddenly became angry with himself and shouted aloud, “What a fool you are, Grey Squirrel! There, before you, was food for your family for a whole week. But you let the buck make you feel sorry for him. You cared for his injury, and now he has left you empty-handed after a whole day of hunting, with only the story of a deer who let you pet him—as if anyone would believe you! You are a fool, Grey Squirrel!” Then there was a loud rustling near by. All of a sudden, Grey Squirrel heard a voice, calling his name. “Grey Squirrel!” the voice boomed, echoing in the forest. “Don’t be angry with yourself. I witnessed what you did today. Your tribe will honor you. It takes courage to travel in the forests alone in search of food. But it takes greater courage to forget to be a hunter when his prey is so easy a target because of an injury. You sacrificed time and food for your family’s table to help the injured buck. If you had killed the animal, you would have felt cowardly. Return to our village, hold your head high, and tell of your deed today. Do not worry if they do not believe you at first. Your heart is happy for your kindness. Go, Grey Squirrel, it grows late. I will ask the chiefs to hear your story at the council fire tonight.”