One day, a small boy came to his father, who was seated at a
warm fire just outside his tepee, and warming his hands.
"Father," the young boy said, "I would like, with your permission,
to ask you a question."

     The man looked at his son and said, "This is good that you
are asking question, my son, at such a young age.  I am proud to
be called your father.

     "Well," the boy said, "It has to do with the names we give
our people."

     "I see," said his father as he tossed another branch on the
fire before him.  "What is, then, your question my little
warrior?"

     "Well, father, I was wondering how we receive our names?"

     "What do you mean, my son?" his father asked.

     "You know, father.  As my older brother, for example.  His
name is Running Bear.  My other brother is called Red Cloud.  My
sister's name is White Moon.  How did they receive these names,
father?"

     "It is quite simple, my son.  When your mother gave birth to
these you have named, it is our custom for the father to leave
his lodge and the first thing he sees, that is the name he gives
his offspring.  When your oldest brother was born, I left the
tepee and the first thing I saw was a large bear running through
the woods.  Thus, I named your oldest brother, Running Bear.
Likewise, with your other brother, he was born at day time.  I
walked out of our dwelling and the sun had made the clouds
overhead red in color so I named him Red Cloud.  finally, your
sister was born at night.  I left our tepee and the first thing my
eyes fell upon was a bright white moon and thus is her name to
this day.  But I am puzzled, my son, that you should be concerned
of such a thing.  Why has this troubled your young mind, my son,
Puking Dog?