 
gray fox was a little indian boy. 
his father was big chief beaver. 
gray fox dreamed of the time when he would be big enough to go hunting 
with the braves. 
one evening the indian braves sat close around the fire. 
big chief beaver quietly smoked a pipe. 
tomorrow they would start on the big hunt. 
young gray fox sat in the outer circle. 
he watched the smoke from the campfire curling lazily on its way up to the 
sky. 
he listened to the tales of the hunt. 
the braves had many stories to tell of their great skills in hunting. 
soon the fires burned low. 
the braves left, one by one, to rest before their long journey. 
before sun-up they would be well along the trail. 
gray fox waited until the last indian brave had left the campfire. 
then he crawled over and sat down beside his father, big chief beaver. 
"father," said gray fox, "i too wish to hunt with the braves. 
i am strong. 
my arrow shoots more swiftly than the wind." 
"even the son of a chief must prove his courage before he can hunt with 
the braves," said his father. 
"first you must bring me a feather pulled from the tail of a fierce live 
eagle. 
only then can you go on the hunt." 
early the next morning, gray fox started on his long, difficult search for 
the nest of the mighty eagle. 
he knew it would be hidden high up on the mountain. 
he walked many days before he reached the foot of the mountain. 
