[Cyclefrance]

The Indian camp was like any other, As boys, the braves would learn their various customs: how to make and throw a tomahawk, how to track buffalo and deer, and also how to build a teepee.

Sadly not all were good at the last task, and one particular brave was really no good at all. Whereas everyone else’s tepee was strong and tall and tightly bound with blankets and hides, there was one brave whose tepee was… well, just a mess really.

The branches that took the weight sagged where they should have been strong, and he never did quite get it together when it came to securing the covering. It just sort of flapped in the breeze. Needless to say, when it rained, the teepee leaked. And even the interior was bad. Just a single buffalo hide on the ground, from a very old buffalo as well, quite thin and barely capable to keep the dirt at bay.

And so it was that the brave acquired a new name: Poor Tent. And Poor Tent never really was admired by the rest of the tribe, in fact he had to live on the perimeter of the camp, away from all the others. The thought of having their nice clean, dry, strong teepees next door to the sad and desperate construction that Poor Tent made was just not acceptable. Seems that neighbour problems were as strong then as they are today!

Now the chief of this tribe was blessed with three daughters, and their father was very proud of his young girl squaws. They did everything together, That is until that age arrived when all young Indian girls started to think of their future as the wife of a brave.

For two of the squaws this presented no problem for their father, for they were attracted to two of the strongest braves in the tribe, but the third and youngest (and somewhat his favourite), Little Running Deer by name, just fell in love with Poor Tent.

Her father was angry. He did not know what to do to try to stop her and so he threatened to banish her. But Little Running Deer’s love was strong, and Poor Tent loved her too. And so it was that the chief’s youngest squaw left her family to join her loved one and live on the perimeter of the camp, resting on the sad buffalo hide inside Poor Tent’s teepee, while her sisters enjoyed living inside the camp in the luxury of their teepees, and resting on their grand and thick buffalo hides..

Time passed and the three squaws had babies. Three healthy sons, one each. And those healthy sons grew to be strong young boys. But even still, Poor Tent and Little Running Deer were never permitted to return to the camp. Still they lived outside on the perimeter.

The years passed and the sons reached their teenage years, and began to learn to hunt - how to stalk the buffalo and deer as their fathers had also learned before them.

And so it was one day, that all three sons found themselves tracking the same buffalo. A huge beast it was, and one of the largest in the herd, They stalked it quietly and stealthily. Unbeknown to them, their chief (and grandfather) was there also watching them from behind.

All went well as they moved gradually closer to the beast, but then suddenly, the buffalo found their scent. He looked at them snorting and stamping the ground with his hooves. And then, in a moment he charged. The first two sons soon realised that the buffalo was going to charge right into them all, and they turned and ran, but Poor Tent’s son caught sight of his grandfather and realised that if he moved from the animal’s path then the buffalo would surely kill the chief. With little time to spare, Poor Tent’s son raised his bow that he was carrying and drew and fired in quick succession three arrows straight at and into the buffalo about the neck head and chest. The beast pulled back momentarily, but then seemed to be even angrier at this assault and charged again. Another three arrows, one ,two, three, and as each one hit, the buffalo eased and then resumed his charge. With no more then a mere few yards left, Poor Tent’s son released his last and final arrow. Fast true and hard it sped towards its target and buried itself deep into the chest and heart of the buffalo, and this giant of an animal collapsed but five paces from the young brave. The young brave’s heart pounded but the chief was safe!

The chief looked at the grandson who had saved his life and knew what he must do.

So that evening he called all the braves and squaws to the centre of the camp where they sat in a large circle. And in the middle of the circle were laid the hides from the teepees of the three fathers. And behind each hide a mother stood, each of the three chief’s daughters. And on each one of the hides a squaw’s son sat.

And the chief appeared and addressed his tribe, telling them of the danger he had faced and how but one brave had saved him. And when he had finished his tale. He stopped and looked at Poor Tent who was standing next to Little Running bear now, and then turned again to his tribe and said:

‘Today, Poor Tent and his family will return to the tribe because of his son’s bravery. For so it must be, no longer must they be cast outside our tribe, for Poor Tent’s son has saved my life and proved his bravery as good as any mans, and certainly as good as, if not better than, both the other two braves together that are also sitting here. For so it shall be told and written - passed forward from generation to generation for all to know from this day forward – the son of the squaw on the hide Poor Tent uses, is equal to the sons of the squaws on the other two hides!’

(Just think about it….)