Thunder on the Plains by Gary Robinson

number of animals,” Perkins replied.
    â€œAnd what did they find?”
    â€œOne of the five bison had the disease.”
    â€œAnd on the basis of that one small test the government killed more than one thousand untested animals?” The reporter was astonished.
    â€œI’m afraid so,” Perkins replied. You could see the park ranger didn’t like it. “What’s worse is that more animals will probably be put to death this coming winter unless someone does something about it.”
    Then an American Indian man named Martin Two Bulls was shown. He spoke for an organization called the Inter-tribal Bison Cooperative. Several Indian tribes with their own buffalo herds belonged to this group.
    â€œThe buffalo of Yellowstone that roam free are a symbol of American Indian culture, history, and economy,” he said. “We must stop this slaughter from happening again. I askfor the help of people who are watching this news program. Please don’t let them murder our brothers, the Buffalo People, again. The army did this in the 1800s to destroy our food supply and our way of life. Please don’t let it happen again.”
    The news report ended on a close shot of Mr. Two Bulls. He had a single tear rolling down his cheek.
    Grandpa was shocked. “We’ve got to do something,” he said to Robert.
    â€œWhat can we do?” Robert asked.
    â€œMaybe the tribal council can do something,” Grandpa suggested.
    â€œMaybe,” Robert replied.
    â€œYou know those guys,” Amanda said. “They won’t stick their necks out for something like this.” She went back to the kitchen.
    â€œIt can’t hurt to try,” Robert said. “I’ll see if the tribal council will listen to us at their next meeting.”
    The next day Robert called the tribal office and got us a slot on the council agenda. Their next meeting would be in two days.
    Our whole family went to the tribal council chambers that day. There were eight men on the council. They were elected by the members of the tribe every four years. The council made decisions about tribal business.
    Grandpa told me that tribal councils were created in 1934 by something called the Indian Reorganization Act. This way the U.S. government has a group within each tribe to do business with.
    When it came their turn, Grandpa and Robert stood in front of the council. They told the council about the news report. Robert said they could use the tribe’s cattle trucks to go to Yellowstone and pick up fifty bison to start the tribe’s own herd.
    â€œMany other tribes have begun their own herds,” Robert said.
    My uncle and grandfather made a good presentation. I was sure that once the council heard the story they would take some action. Instead, the council members made a lot of excuses for why they couldn’t do anything right now.
    â€œJust the other day, Barney, our tribal cattle manager, was telling me that the fences need mending” the tribal chairman said. “Our cattle transport truck is still broke down, too.”
    â€œI thought we voted to have that fixed,” another council member replied.
    â€œYeah, but we never set aside the money to make the repairs,” the council treasurer reminded them.
    â€œWell, let’s check the minutes,” the tribal chairman suggested.
    â€œWe could, but I left them at home,” the council secretary said. “I can go home and get them if you want to wait.”
    The council voted not to make a decision until more information could be gathered. I couldn’t believe it. My own people wouldn’t take action on such an important matter!
    â€œAmanda was right,” Robert said. “They are afraid to stick their necks out.”
    â€œThey’re a bunch of—” Grandpa started to say, but my uncle stopped him.
    â€œWe all know what you think of the council,” Robert said. “No need to repeat it.”
    Robert