One day in the early spring many years ago, the old Indian chief, White Fox, summoned his sons to the council fire. The boys responded eagerly, for they had been anxiously awaiting his call. White Fox had led his people wisely for many years, but now the time had come for him to face the difficult decision as to which of his twin sons, Straight Arrow or Brave Hawk, would succeed him as chief.
The firelight shone on his leathery face as he said solemnly, “My sons, it is my task to choose which of you will take my place as chief when I am no longer able to be a leader. I cannot make my choice until you have both proven yourselves—as hunters, warriors, and horsemen. My decision will be made known on the day your years number eighteen.”
Then, just as Straight Arrow and Brave Hawk were turning away, their father reached under a pile of deer hides beside him and drew out two small saplings. He held them out to the boys and said, “It is my wish that each of you plant one of these small cottonwood trees.”
When the boys had left the council fire, Brave Hawk turned to Straight Arrow and said boastfully, “Well, my brother, do you want to give up now? I shall outshoot you, outride you and prove myself to be a more able warrior!” He shook his fist defiantly, still clutching the cottonwood twig.
Straight Arrow smiled at his brother and said, “We shall see, we shall see. Where will you plant your tree?”
Brave Hawk answered in disgust, “What a waste of time! What do I care about planting a scrawny little stick!” Then a sly look crossed his face as he said, “My brother, where have you thought to plant your tree?”
Straight Arrow answered slowly, “Why, I thought, perhaps, in the field about the river—”
Brave Hawk broke in quickly, “Of course, I know the spot, on the edge of the bank, where all the world can see. I’ll plant mine right now!” Without a backward glance, he leaped on his horse and galloped off.
Straight Arrow was tempted to follow, but instead, he sought out his old friend Brown Beaver to ask his advice. Brown Beaver knew much about the planting and caring for crops.
Later that afternoon, Straight Arrow set out for the hillside he had mentioned to his brother. He looked first for Brave Hawk’s tree and found it several feet from the edge of the rocky cliff. The little tree stood straight and alone, sure to catch the eye of any passerby.
Then Straight Arrow turned his horse and rode to the center of the grassy field several hundred yards away and dismounted. He worked diligently for some time, not only digging a deep hole in which to plant the tree but also clearing away the grass from an area several feet around the hole. When he was finished planting the tree, he made a trip on foot down the rocky trail to the river and returned with a buffalo-hide bag full of water. He poured the water around the little twig, then stood back and surveyed his work.
All through the summer, Straight Arrow cared for his tree with tenderness. He watered it from the river when the skies sent no rain, and he kept the earth around it free from growth. He occasionally glanced toward his brother’s tree, which stood on the edge of the river bank. Brave Hawk was so busy training himself for the approaching contents between the two that he didn’t have much time to care for his twig, even when a small landslide left some of the young tree’s roots exposed.
In the two years that passed before the twins’ 18th birthday, White Fox gave them many tests of bravery and skill. Straight Arrow proved himself to be the more skillful hunter, while Brave Hawk won the honors in horsemanship.
On one occasion a nearby tribe went on the warpath. White Fox ordered his sons to go with the war party to meet the attacking tribe. The villagers waited anxiously for news of the chief ’s sons’ conduct in battle. At the sound of approaching horses, the people rushed out to meet the returning warriors. They gasped when they saw the wound on the side of Straight Arrow’s head.
Brave Hawk wore a triumphant air as he jumped from his horse and proudly said, “We have driven back our enemies, my father, and I have escaped injury!” He paused and added with obvious difficulty, “But Straight Arrow saved my life, Father. It was because of me that he was hurt.”
So it appeared that each son had distinguished himself in battle. They seemed to be evenly matched. How would White Fox be able to decide between his sons? Many of the old chief ’s advisors confessed they were glad that this was not their decision to make.
At last the boys’ eighteenth birthday arrived. Everyone in the Indian village wore the ceremonial dress for the occasion. When all the tribe was assembled, White Fox stepped from his teepee and motioned for his people to follow him. With mounting curiosity, they followed as he led them to the rocky knoll overlooking the river.
There he stopped and said solemnly, “A chief must have many qualities. Some are seen easily with the eyes, such as good horsemanship, hunting skill and bravery in battle. Both of my sons have shown that they possess these qualities. There are other things, however, that a great chief must have. Anyone can plant a tree, but not every man knows how to care for it with wisdom, patience, and love. I gave each of my sons a tree to plant many moons ago. Today you see with your own eyes the results.”
He paused and pointed toward the edge of the bank. “Brave Hawk’s tree stands alive, but because it was planted in a poor location and uncared for, it is dwarfed and will never grow tall.” He then turned and pointed toward the tree in the meadow. “Straight Arrow’s tree stands erect, with new growth, pointing to the sky. It will someday become a great tree, under whose shade men can rest in years to come.” The wise old chief came forward and, touching Straight Arrow’s shoulder, said proudly, “I choose Straight Arrow to be your new chief. May you, my son, lead our people happily and show them the love and concern which you have shown this little cottonwood tree.”