Description

Slow Dog, Medication Man, looked out of his lodge. Wild geese were honking overhead. To the Indian it intended the go back of spring. “I will have to be the primary to kill one,” muttered Slow Dog. Entering his lodge, he at this time came out with bow and arrows. Hastening toward a bend within the river which shaped a sheltered cove, he hid among a clump of willow bushes and waited within the hope that the birds may come all the way down to feed.