Once upon a time, before the white men drove them away to Oklahoma, the Pawnee Indians lived in Nebraska, where their sworn enemies were the Sioux. There they lived all the time in villages, where they were skilled farmers and potters.
In one of the Pawnee villages lived a poor woman with her grandson Ku-suk-seia, which means 'left-hand'. She was a helpful old soul, and the boy was pleasant and friendly. Yet the two of them were not well thought of in the village, for while there was no shame in being poor, there was no glory either. And they had practically nothing: no horses, no cattle, nothing worth mentioning at all. Their clothes were clean enough, but much patched. When Ku-suk-seia's father had died in a hunting accident, he had no fine head-dresses to leave to his son. Even their tent was small and badly placed, and when Hotoru the storm spirit swept over the prairie the modest shelter shivered on it's poles as if it might collapse at any moment.
As soon as the bison began to move in the autumn, the Pawnees went hunting. For the northern winter would be long and bitter, and before it came they must have enough dried fish, pemmican and bison skins to see them safely through till spring.
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