"
Son-of-a-Brave slipped his newly tipped arrow in his bow and aimed at
the old hare. It would be very easy indeed to shoot him, for the hare
did not move, and the boy thought what a warm pair of moccasin tops
his skin would make. Then Son-of-a-Brave took his arrow out again, for
another thought had come to him. He knew that it would be cowardly to
shoot a hare that was too weak to run away.
The boy stooped down and picked up the old hare, wrapping him up close
to his own warm body in his blanket. Then he went with him through the
snow of the woods until they came to a place where a stream lay, and
there were young willow trees growing along the edge. Here he set down
the hare, and began to dig away the ice and frozen earth with his new
arrow tip until the roots of the trees could be seen, and the soft
bark. How the hare did eat these! As Son-of-a-Brave left him and went
home, he could still see the famished creature nibbling the food for
which he had been so hungry.
The Indian boy never saw the hare again that winter. He knew that he
had dug a large enough hole so that the hare could find shelter and
have enough food. His bow and arrow were hung on the wall, and
Son-of-a-Brave sat by the fire with his mother and father until spring
came.
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