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was so relieved! I shook the chairman’s hand and hugged my uncle. The rest of the gang jumped for joy and hooted and hollered. Then Mr. Perkins stepped over to me.
    â€œDanny,” he said, “because of your efforts, I’ve contacted Martin Two Bulls of the Inter-tribal Bison Cooperative. We’re going to start a tribal bison program that will allow othertribes in the area to take some of our excess animals to build up their own bison herds.”
    That was great! Perkins shook my hand. “Good luck on your ride home, son,” he said.
    We, the Cheyenne buffalo rescuers, mounted our horses and rode to the buffalo stockade. There were fifty of the most wonderful creatures I had ever seen. Up close I could see they were large and powerful. Almost scary. A couple of them were pawing the ground and snorting loudly. One was banging his horns against the stockade fence.
    What had I gotten us into?
    Then Grandpa began singing his Buffalo Song. The beasts started to calm down. The stockade gate was opened. The buffalo moved out of the pen, following Grandpa as he sang. It was amazing! We moved in behind and around the small herd. We began the long trip back to the reservation.
    It was a slow but magical journey. With Grandpa singing in the lead, the herd followed him as readily as a herd of old dairy cows heading to the barn.
    On the second day of the trip, Grandpa guided his horse close to mine.
    â€œThe oldest member of the herd asked me to thank you for this,” Grandpa said.
    â€œWhat?” I asked. “What did you say?”
    â€œThese buffalo are grateful to be going home to be with their Cheyenne brothers,” he continued.
    â€œHow do you know this?”
    â€œI speak Buffalo,” Grandpa replied. “My grandpa taught me. One day I’ll teach you.” He smiled and moved back over in front of the herd.
    The trip back took longer than we expected. The bison were walking very slowly. Finally, we made it back to Buffalo Gap about noon on Wednesday. There was wild excitement when the people saw us coming toward the edge of town.
    The Cheyenne people of Rocky Point recognized the importance of this day. They stopped what they were doing and stood in doorways and on porches to watch the sight. They were in awe as the beautiful beaststrotted majestically down their main street and into the tribe’s cattle pasture. Tears came to the eyes of many elders as they welcomed their four-legged brothers to their home.
    That evening, the tribal chairman held a huge feast to honor me and the other kids. Before dinner, I stood with the chairman in front of the guests.
    â€œTonight we’re here to honor a young man who has shown courage, vision, and leadership,” Chairman Spotted Horse said. “I’m just glad he’s not old enough to run for tribal chairman. Otherwise, I might have a real fight on my hands come the next election,” he laughed.
    The chairman gave me a carved wooden buffalo as a gift from his office and the tribal council. Then he launched into a campaign speech for his re-election.
    After dinner, Robert, Grandpa, and I stood together outside in the front of the house, talking and watching the sunset.
    â€œI’m proud of both of you,” Robert said. “You’ve reminded a lot of our people whatcan be accomplished when you believe in something strongly enough.”
    Grandpa smiled.
    â€œBut it was still a foolhardy thing to do, Dad,” he told Grandpa. “Your health’s not good. And somebody could’ve gotten hurt!”
    â€œBut that’s why I had to go with them, son. I knew I couldn’t talk them out of it. So I thought it best to go with them in case there was trouble.” He winked at me. “Anyway, I’ve never felt better or stronger in my life,” he finished proudly.
    â€œWe couldn’t have done it without you, Grandpa,” I admitted. “There’s no way we could’ve handled