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Cheyenne song as he fanned.
    Suddenly I remembered my dad doing this ceremony for me on my first day of school. He had said I could do this for myself anytime I was bothered by something or before an important event. I had totally forgotten about it.
    I stayed quiet and let Grandpa finish the ritual. Next, he stepped behind me. Grandpa fanned the smoke all over my back and legs and the top of my head.
    â€œOkay, that’s all for today,” Grandpa said. He sat down in his big stuffed chair. “We’ll start ‘Indian school’ tomorrow after yourchores.” He began putting the items back in the box.
    I was a little puzzled about what had taken place. Just as I was about to ask a question, Grandpa said, “I’ll explain a little at a time as we go along. Tomorrow, we’ll start with the Buffalo People. Now run along and play with your cousins.” He smiled.
    And so it began. Almost every day after I finished my chores, I’d sit with Grandpa in the back room listening to tales of the days of Cheyenne glory. But Grandpa was really interested in telling me about the buffalo. He had books with paintings, drawings, and photographs of the animals.
    â€œThe Buffalo People were the Creator’s greatest gift to our people,” Grandpa said. “We got almost everything we needed for life from them. But we did not take life from our Buffalo Brothers for the sport of it. First we asked their permission, respectfully. Then we used everything that they had to offer. We wasted nothing. And we honored them withour songs and dances. We were spiritually connected to them.”
    â€œSpiritually connected? What does that mean?”
    â€œIt means they were part of us. And we were part of them. That’s why we called them our brothers.”
    My grandfather’s stories painted beautiful pictures in my mind of the olden days. That was a time when the Cheyenne people were free and lived close to the earth. Grandpa longed for those “good old days.” Back then, the buffalo roamed the plains and the Cheyenne moved their camps regularly to be near them.
    â€œWhen a herd of the great beasts started a stampede, they made a loud rumble you could hear for miles,” he said. “It sounded just like thunder on the plains. That was a thrill!”
    My mind became filled with fantasies about those days. At night I dreamed about those powerful animals. Sometimes they could talk to me. And I could communicate with them. They told me they missed the olddays too, when we played together. One night I dreamed that I was a Cheyenne hunter in the 1800s. I pictured myself riding on horseback across the plains with a hunting party in search of a herd. I woke up and my heart was pounding with excitement!

Chapter 7
In My Father’s Footsteps
    The time for survival camp finally arrived. We got our camping gear ready. On the last Saturday of June, Amanda cooked our final meal before we left. It was a hearty country breakfast of eggs, bacon, biscuits, and jelly.
    Amanda and my grandparents stood in the front doorway of the house. They waved as we pulled out in Uncle Robert’s pickup. We were headed to the tribal community center in Buffalo Gap.
    On the way to the center, Robert said, “Danny, during camp I’m going to treat you like I treat everyone there. So don’t expect any special favors. Got that?”
    â€œOkay.”
    â€œIt’s for your own good. That way you’ll get the most out of the week.”
    â€œOkay.” That’s all I could think to say.
    We were the first ones to arrive at the tribal community center. We had to be there early so my uncle could greet the kids and their parents. A half dozen teenagers from other communities on the reservation were dropped off that morning.
    According to my uncle, these were kids who had been in some kind of serious trouble. We all kind of sized each other up as we waited for everyone else to arrive. One of the