As they walked Young Bear kept looking at his grandfather. The old man did not look normal. Young Bear could not understand what was wrong. He would walk for a ways thinking very hard. His forward wrinkles as his mind worked. Then he would look at Old Beaver Tail again. After they had walked only a few miles the weather turned bad again. It had been almost warm for the past couple of days but now it was turning cold again. The wind was starting to blow. It was not blowing hard but it was a cold wind and seemed as though it was a promise of what was to come. Then Young Bear saw what was wrong with the old man. Old Beaver Tail's face was drawn and tired looking again. Hiscolor was not right. His face looked gray. Young Bear unrolled the thin blanket he carried. They used the blanket at night when it was too cold to sleep on the cold ground and had used it when the weather was bad while they walked. Now he placed the doubled blanket around the old man's shoulders. The old man looked at the boy and smiled as he took the edges of the blanket and brought the blanket across his chest. "It will be very cold tonight", he told his grandson. " We will need a large pile of leaves and grass to keep us warm." As they walked small snow flakes began to fall. The clouds looked as if they were made of gray stuff stacked one on top of the other. By the time they stopped for a midday rest the wind had increased and the falling snow was thicker. Old Beaver Tail was shivering again. They had built a small fire to warm the old man but with the wind and the heavy snow it was a vain effort. Young Bear did not know what to do. he had cut some small fir boughs to put inside the blanket but it seemed to be of little help. Old Beaver Tail was shivering very hard now and Young Bear was also very cold. He heard a noise and turned to look. He found himself looking up at the largest white soldier he had ever seen sitting on the biggest horse he could imagine. The white soldier looked as if his head and face were on fire. His hair and beard were bright red. It was the strangest thing Young Bear had ever seen. At first he could not believe his eyes. He closed his eyes hard and rubbed them with his hands. When he again looked up the giant white soldier was smiling down at him. And---His hair was still red. Young bear thought something must have happened to him to make his hair that color. As he looked up, the white soldier looked at Old Beaver Tail. He saw the old man was shivering profusely. He turned and untied some knots holding a roll to his saddle behind him. He lifted the roll and tossed it down at the feet of Young Bear. Still astounded by the red hair Young Bear nodded his thanks. The boy knew what the roll was. He had seen the white soldiers use the roll make a bed when they stopped at night. Young Bear unrolled the bed roll. It was rolled inside something that was as strange to him as the red hair. When he had seen the soldiers use the roll he had thought the black outer part was just another blanket. Now he saw it was something that was not a blanket but he could not think of what kind animal would have a hide like this. He continued to unroll the strange material. Inside he found two thick wool blankets. As he held up the blankets he noticed the wind did not penetrate the strange black material. After he placed the wool blankets around Old Beaver Tail's shoulders he put the strange black blanket over the wool blankets. The large soldier with the fire colored hair and beard looked on and nodded his approval as he turned the big horse and rode away. Young Bear pulled the blankets tight around the old Man's middle and tied them with the small rope that had been used to tie the bed roll. The young boy could look at the old man and see he was beginning to feel better. He was not shivering as hard. Young Bear decided he would he would ask the Great Spirit to look kindly on the white giant with the red hair. He looked around the small stream they had stopped by. He saw what he was looking for. He took Old Beaver Tail's knife and walked over to a willow tree. Using the knife he stripped the bark from a limb of the tree. This he caught in his hand and held. When he had as much as he could hold in his hand he filled the small waist bag he carried. he walked back to the fire, took his grandfather's small cook pot, filled it with water and waited for it to boil. When the water started to steam he put some of the inner bark from the willow tree into the pot. After it had been in the water for a few minutes he took the pot off the fire and poured some into the old man's cup. The old man drank the bitter brew, knowing it would help him feel better. Again the white soldier's horn blew for the journey to resume. Old Beaver Tail and his grandson, Young bear, arose to continue the trip west.
