OMAHA BOW AND ARROW MAKERS—LA FLESCHE 49] 
it has always impressed me as being the true explanation of the 
making of grooves on the arrow shafts. 
One day I went home from school and found that my fatlier had 
been taken sick in the midst of his preparations for the annual 
summer tribal buffalo hunt. He had finished polishing and straight- 
ening the shafts and shaping the nocks, but he was too weak to 
groove the arrow shafts. As this was a necessary part in making the 
arrow he had sent for U’-shi-wa-the (Quail) who was a very skillful 
workman in grooving arrow shafts. The quality of the fee my 
father had given for the work to be done put the old man in very 
good spirits; he talked as he worked, pointing out the defects in 
some of the shafts and mentioning the names of the men who in the 
past were skilled in grooving arrow shafts, but who had departed 
for the spirit land. Without pausing in his talk he picked a shaft, 
put on it the grooving tool; with a swift movement he deftly cut 
the first groove, then he cut the second one, then the third one and 
the threadlike shavings fell to the floor. Looking up at my father 
I said: “Da-di, what is he making those grooves for?” My father 
smiled, and addressing the old man said: “ Father, tell the boy, for 
he may be making arrows some day.” The old man picked up a 
shaft and said: “My grandson, your father spent much time in 
selecting these saplings for his arrows; he sorted out those he thought 
to be perfect, but there is no perfect wood; there is always some 
fault in it. Now look at this one I have in my hand, there was a 
sharp bend which he had hard work in straightening, but when I 
put on it the groove, thus, and thus, and thus, the shaft will not roll 
back to its natural imperfection, but will remain straight; that’s why 
these grooves are made.” 
The next process is the feathering of the shaft, and it may not be 
out of place here to continue the story of Quail, the old Omaha arrow 
groover. So pleased was he with his fee that he offered to finish the 
arrows for my father. He also allowed me to take a very humble 
part in the work. I was requested to bring to him a bag containing 
glue, sinew, and feathers; also a pan of warm water. I started a lit- 
tle fire to heat the glue and to soften it. The old man took the pan 
of warm water and put into it the sinew which he had shredded into 
many threads; he also put into the pan the glue which was attached 
to one end of a stick nearly as long as an arrow shaft. 
As the old man examined the feathers, which were owl feathers, 
he remarked “a bird of night.” The feathers were from the wings, 
the stems were split, the pithy part scraped with a knife, leaving the 
aftershaft clean like parchment. He next tested the threads of 
sinew, taking up one strand from which he squeezed the water then 
wiping his hands, took up a split feather, put the top end against the 
shaft, aftershaft of the feather downward, so as to overlap a little 
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