RUNNING FOX
The next instant his own arrow dropped his enemy to the ground.
RUNNING FOX
BY
ELMER RUSSELL GREGOR
AUTHOR OF “WHITE OTTER,” ETC. ETC.
FRONTISPIECE BY
D. C. HUTCHISON
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY
NEW YORK—LONDON
1918
Copyright, 1918, by
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY
Printed in the United States of America
ACKNOWLEDGMENT
I beg to gratefully acknowledge my indebtedness to Schoolcraft’s works on the Eastern Indians, and to Morgan’s “League of the Iroquois” for much valuable information about the old-time Lenape and Iroquois Indians, and to the Lenape-English Dictionary edited by Daniel G. Brinton, and published by The Historical Society of Pennsylvania, for many ancient Lenape words.
Elmer Russell Gregor.
Table of Contents
[IV—IN THE GRIP OF THE RAPIDS]
[XI—A SKIRMISH WITH THE SHAWNEES]
[XV—A BATTLE WITH THE CHIPPEWAS]
[XVIII—THE IROQUOIS BLUNDER INTO A TRAP]
[XIX—THE ATTACK ON THE DELAWARE CAMP]
RUNNING FOX
CHAPTER I—A LONELY VIGIL
Having reached the age of sixteen winters, Running Fox, the son of Black Panther, a famous Delaware war-chief, determined to establish his reputation as a warrior. He knew, however, that before he could gain admission into the gallant company of fighting men he would have to prove his courage and ability in some daring exploit. Running Fox believed that the Delawares would expect some extraordinary achievement from the son of their most noted chief, and he resolved to surpass the most noteworthy deeds of his tribesmen. He spent many days trying to think of something sufficiently heroic to gain him the fame he desired. As he could come to no decision, he finally went to his father, and asked him to name the greatest possible achievement for a Delaware.
The eyes of the stern Delaware war-chief lighted with pride as he heard the bold request of his son. He spent some moments silently studying the face of the eager lad before him. Then, convinced that Running Fox was in earnest, he answered him.
“My son, you have asked me to tell you the greatest thing a Delaware can do. I will tell you. Far away toward Lowaneu, The-Place-Where-The-Cold-Comes-From, in the Mohawk camp, lives a great war-leader named Standing Wolf. You have heard our warriors talk about him at the council-fires. He has killed many of our people. We have fought many battles with him, but we cannot kill him. It must be that he bears a charmed life. We believe that he has some mysterious power. Many times our young men have surrounded him, but when they rushed in to destroy him he always killed most of them and escaped. He has done some wonderful things. It must be that he possesses some mysterious medicine charm. If you can go to the Mohawk camp and find out how Standing Wolf gets his power it will be the greatest thing you can do.”
“I will go,” Running Fox cried, impulsively.
“My son, you are brave enough, but you speak fast like a child,” replied Black Panther. “You must think about this thing. Then you will begin to see how hard it is. Many brave warriors have tried to do it. Not one found out about it. Most of them lost their lives. The Mohawks are as keen as wolves. When you enter their country, you will be in constant danger of losing your life. If they find your trail it will be hard to escape. But if you feel brave enough to try to do this great thing, then you must go and talk with Sky Dog. He is a great medicine-person, perhaps he will be able to help you. Now I have told you what to do.”
“My father, I will do as you have told me,” agreed Running Fox.
He went at once to find old Sky Dog, the venerable Delaware medicine-man. When Running Fox arrived at the medicine-lodge and drew aside the huge bear robe that hung before the entrance, he saw the aged medicine-man sitting upon the ground before a small fire. He was tossing small handfuls of dried sweet-grass upon the embers, and droning some sort of medicine-song. He took no notice of the lad standing uneasily in the doorway, and Running Fox began to wonder whether he had better withdraw. While he hesitated, however, Sky Dog raised his head and looked to see who his visitor might be.
“Hi, I see some one standing in the doorway of my lodge,” he said, peevishly. “The light is bad, and my eyes are old, so that I cannot tell who you are. Come in here, and let me look at you.”
Running Fox entered, and stood before the medicine-man. Sky Dog nodded understandingly.
“Now I see who you are,” he said, “You are the son of a great chief. Well, what do you want?” he demanded, sharply.
Running Fox suddenly felt bewildered in the presence of this great medicine-person. For some moments, therefore, he maintained an awkward silence.
“Well, have you no ears?” Sky Dog cried, impatiently. “I have asked you something. Has your tongue left your mouth? Come, I am not here to be stared at.”
The sharp reproach instantly aroused Running Fox from his reverie. He saw that his stupid silence had angered Sky Dog, and he hastened to explain the reason for his visit.
Sky Dog seemed astounded at his boldness. He shook his head, and stared thoughtfully at the fire. It was a long time before he replied.
“You have spoken big words,” he said, finally. “You are only a boy, and yet you have asked me to help you do something which our bravest warriors have been unable to do. Do you think that I will listen to such foolish prattle? No. You must show me that you are in earnest. Does your father know about this thing!”
“Yes, my father sent me here,” replied Running Fox.
“Well, then I may do something about it,” said Sky Dog. “But there are many things to be done before you can start on such a journey.”
“I am listening,” declared Running Fox.
“That is right. Well, first you must go to the sweat-lodge, and purify yourself so that you can pray to Getanittowit, the Great One. Then you must go away from the village for three days. You must go to a high mountain, and ask Getanittowit, the Great One, to help you. You must sing medicine-songs. You must not eat anything but a handful of parched corn once each day. Perhaps if you do these things Getanittowit will take pity on you, and send you a vision. If that comes to pass you must come to me, and I will tell you the meaning of it. If you do not receive a vision it will be useless to set out upon the undertaking, for you will surely be killed. I have told you what to do. Go.”
Running Fox left the lodge in high spirits. He had little doubt that if he faithfully carried out the commands of Sky Dog he would receive aid and power that would enable him to achieve his ambition. He went to his father and told him what Sky Dog had said. Then he hurried to the sweat-lodge.
The Pimoakan, or sweat-lodge, was a low, dome-shaped structure made of willow boughs, and covered with several layers of animal robes. It was located close beside the river. As Running Fox approached it he saw Sky Dog and an aged assistant heating stones at a fire near the entrance to the lodge.
When the hot stones had been rolled into the lodge Sky Dog ordered Running Fox to remove his clothing and crawl into the Pimoakan. Then the medicine-man and his companion filled raw-hide buckets with river water, and dashed it over the hot stones. When the lodge was filled with steam they hung a number of heavy bear robes over the entrance, and left the lad to his fate.
For some moments Running Fox believed that he would smother in the stifling clouds of steam. Gasping and choking, he was on the point of crying out to be released when he suddenly realized what it would mean. He told himself that such an act would not only disgust Sky Dog, but that it might even arouse the anger of Getanittowit, the Great One. The possibility frightened him. He endured the ordeal with the uncomplaining fortitude of a hardened warrior. The hot, steam-laden atmosphere induced profuse perspiration, and water streamed from every pore in his body. Running Fox grew weak and dizzy. He fought to overcome his weakness, however, for he realized that it was only by thus cleansing himself that he might become fit to hold communion with Getanittowit, the Great One.
While Running Fox was confined in the lodge, Sky Dog sat just outside the entrance, chanting medicine-songs. He ordered Running Fox to repeat them until he could sing them through without a mistake. Then Sky Dog drew aside the bear robes, and commanded Running Fox to come out. The lad staggered out, pale and faint. He presented a pitiful appearance. Sky Dog pointed toward the river, and Running Fox stumbled down the bank and threw himself into the icy water. The shock quickly revived him, and in a few moments he clambered out quite recovered from his experience.
“Now you can go away and rest,” said Sky Dog. “But you must keep thinking about the thing you wish to do. Then, when you feel strong, you must take your robe and a little parched corn, and go away. You must do that before two suns have passed. Go to some high place and stay there three days. During that time you must continue to ask Getanittowit to take pity upon you, and send you a vision. You must also keep singing the medicine-songs. You must not take any weapons with you for that would make Getanittowit very angry. At the end of three days come back and tell me what you have seen. Now I cannot tell you anything more. Go.”
Late the following day Running Fox took his deer-skin robe, and a small bag containing parched corn, and left the village. He made his way toward a high pine-clad mountain directly behind the great Delaware camp. There were few who saw him go away, for Running Fox had carefully guarded his plans. Two, however, his father and old Sky Dog, stood together at the edge of the village and watched him disappear into the shadows of the forest. Then they turned silently away, and walked thoughtfully to their lodges.
When Running Fox finally reached the summit of the mountain the sun had disappeared, and the purple evening shadows were settling in the valleys. Seating himself upon the trunk of a fallen pine the young Delaware looked wonderingly upon the glorious panorama that lay before him. Far below was the Delaware village beside a splendid river which, like a great serpent, glided down from the north between parallel ridges of low wooded hills. Behind those ridges were others, rising one behind the other, like great billows, until they eventually ended in a long, irregular line of ghostly gray peaks far away against the brilliant sunset sky. The entire country was covered with a vast primeval forest which continued in all directions as far as the eye could see. At various intervals isolated woodland lakes flashed from its Bomber green background and rushing mountain cataracts blazed narrow white trails down the hillsides. It was an unspoiled picture of natural grandeur, a land blessed by the bounteous generosity of Getanittowit, who had filled it with blessings for his children. The waters teemed with fish, the forests swarmed with game, and the air was perfumed with the fragrance of the pines. Running Fox looked upon it with pride and affection, for it was the home of the great Lenape nation, his people, the Delawares.
Then the lad turned his eyes toward the north, and his face grew stern and threatening. He realized that he was looking upon the hunting grounds of his enemies, the fierce and warlike Mohawks. Somewhere in the great silent wilderness that stretched for unknown leagues beyond the headwaters of the river was the Mohawk village in which lived the famous war-chief, Standing Wolf. Running Fox knew that to learn the secret which would enable his people to triumph over their enemies he must find and enter the hostile camp. For the first time he began to understand the difficulty and peril of his task. It seemed like a foolhardy undertaking for an untried lad of sixteen winters. Running Fox thought of the experienced warriors who had sacrificed their lives in the attempt. For a moment or so it weakened his confidence. He even wondered whether he might not have chosen a feat beyond his ability. The idea angered him. He told himself that no task was too great for the son of Black Panther.
Running Fox continued his reveries until darkness closed about the mountain-top. Then, as the fires began to twinkle down in the Delaware camp, he rose and turned his face toward the sky. He stood some moments gazing at the starry heavens. Then he suddenly began his appeal to Getanittowit, the Great One.
Late in the night Running Fox was interrupted by the sound of something moving stealthily through the forest. He was instantly alert, for he recalled that more than one daring Iroquois scout had been detected spying upon the Delaware camp from the summit of that very mountain. For a moment Running Fox longed for his weapons. The next instant he banished the thought for fear of angering Getanittowit. He believed that as long as he sang the sacred medicine-songs, and repeated the words which old Sky Dog had taught him, he would be safe from all danger. Thus assured, he listened without fear to the mysterious sounds in the darkness. At last a startled snort told him that it was only Achtu, the deer. A few moments later he heard it dashing away through the woods.
Dawn found the devout lad, heavy-eyed and weary, still gazing into the sky and calling upon Getanittowit to help him. “O Getanittowit, take pity on me and help me to do what I have set out to do. O Getanittowit, send me a vision. O Getanittowit, I have sung the sacred medicine-songs many times to make you glad. O Getanittowit, take pity on me and help me.” Running Fox continued to repeat the earnest appeal and sing the sacred songs throughout the day. With the falling of darkness, however, the exhausted lad ceased his exertions, and soon afterward fell into a heavy slumber.
The following day Running Fox hovered on the verge of collapse. The scant daily ration of parched corn was insufficient to maintain his strength, and the long, trying ordeal began to sap his vitality. He had stationed himself on a bare granite ledge which formed the very peak of the mountain. There, in the full glare of the scorching summer sun, he stood and offered his prayers to Getanittowit. At times his head reeled and his legs trembled beneath him, but when that happened he staggered to the shade of the forest, and refreshed himself at an icy spring which bubbled forth between the roots of a massive hemlock. Then he toiled painfully up to the ledge, and continued the sacred ceremony which he felt confident would eventually win him the favor of Getanittowit.
More than half of the day had passed when Running Fox discovered something which filled him with dismay. Far away toward the west threatening black clouds were piling up above the hill-tops. The young Delaware watched them with great anxiety. He knew that the Delawares considered it a very bad omen to be overtaken by a thunder storm while conducting one of their sacred ceremonies. It was considered especially significant if one were praying to Getanittowit, the Great One. Under those circumstances a thunderstorm was accepted as a sign of Getanittowit’s displeasure. The thought filled Running Fox with panic. Keeping anxious watch of the darkening western sky, the superstitious young Delaware continued to chant the sacred medicine-songs to avert the ill fortune that threatened him.
It was not long, however, before Running Fox realized that the storm was actually approaching. The ominous black clouds had formed into a great mass that was sweeping rapidly toward the sun, and the low, threatening rumble of distant thunder echoed among the hills. The air grew hot and stifling. A quick, darting line of fire cut the western sky. Running Fox turned his eyes appealingly toward the sun, as he sang the medicine-songs in a high, hysterical tone. Each moment he saw the storm gaining greater force. The sky grew blacker, the thunder sounded louder, and the lightning flashes became more frequent. Then the sun disappeared behind the edge of the storm-clouds, and a peculiar yellow light flooded the valleys. An uncanny hush had fallen upon the wilderness. Running Fox was awed by the sound of his own voice. It sounded harsh and unnatural for he was almost screaming the sacred songs in his eagerness to make them effective. Then another sound reached his ears. The wind was roaring over the ridge to the westward. A few moments later it swept over the mountain-top. A hawk sailed across the sky on the crest of the gale. Running Fox ceased singing to watch it. He wished that he, too, might flee as easily. Before the bird had disappeared, the storm was upon him. It began with a startling crash of thunder, and a crackling flash of light.
Believing that his long ordeal had been in vain, and that he had in some way offended Getanittowit, the Great One, Running Fox wished to die. He knew that if he returned to his people with the disfavor of Getanittowit upon him he would be shunned as one in league with Medsit, the Evil One. He might even be driven from the camp. His heart failed him as he thought of the disgrace which he had brought upon his father. Then, as the first great drops of rain began to fall, he turned his eyes toward the village. A number of people were standing at the edge of the camp, gazing at the mountain-top. Somewhat apart from the others stood a solitary figure, whom the disconsolate lad thought he recognized as his father. The possibility roused him. He believed that Black Panther was there to give him courage and to urge him to continue his petition. The thought filled him with hope. Running Fox told himself that perhaps Getanittowit was only testing his faith and courage. Encouraged by the idea, he determined to show himself worthy. A few moments later, therefore, when the Delaware camp was swept from his sight by a terrific deluge of rain, Running Fox turned his face fearlessly toward the sky, and again sang the medicine-songs. He was a heroic figure as he stood alone on the mountain-top in the fury of the storm, calling upon the great being whom his people believed ruled over all their destinies. Most of the time his voice was lost in the crashing of thunder and the roaring of the wind, but in every lull it rose strong and confident with the new hope that had entered his heart.
“O Getanittowit, I am still here singing the sacred medicine-songs,” he cried. “O Getanittowit, take pity on me. O Getanittowit, do not send me back to my people without something good to tell them. O Getanittowit, when I first heard the dreadful Thunder Beings I was afraid. Now my heart is strong again. O Getanittowit, take pity on me.”
A terrifying crash of thunder was followed by a blinding flash of lightning that shattered a huge dead pine and filled the air with giant splinters. Running Fox was less than three bow-lengths from the tree. When it was struck he staggered backward with his hands before his face, and fell to the ground.
When Running Fox finally regained consciousness, he found himself staring into darkness. For some moments he blinked his eyes to make sure that they were open. When he had convinced himself, a great fear entered his heart. He told himself that Getanittowit had destroyed his sight. Raising his eyes toward the heavens in mute appeal he was astonished to see the stars. He scarcely dared hope that they were real. He turned his head and looked about him. He saw the dim, shadowy outlines of rocks, and the shattered trunk of the giant pine. Then the truth suddenly flashed upon him. It was night. Getanittowit had taken pity upon him, and brought him back to life. Running Fox attempted to rise and give thanks, but he was too weak. Besides, he was wet and cold. He longed for his fire-sticks. Then, as he began to tremble, he suddenly remembered his robe. He crawled about until he found it. It was quite dry on the under side, and he wrapped it closely about him. Then exhaustion overcame him, and he fell back unconscious.
Running Fox had barely closed his eyes when he heard some one calling his name. Then he saw Machque, the bear. For a moment Running Fox felt uneasy without his weapons, for the bear was a huge creature and looked very fierce. However, as he had heard it call his name he knew that it must be a medicine-creature, and he believed that it had come to help him. While he was looking at the bear, he heard some one behind, him calling his name. He looked and saw Achtu, the deer. It showed no fear of the bear, and walked up and stood beside it. Then Running Fox knew that they must be medicine-creatures. As he was thinking what to say to them, he again heard his name, and this time it was Woakus, the fox. It, too, went and stood beside the others. Then came Quenischquney, the panther, and Wisawanik, the squirrel, and Gokhos, the owl, and the terrible Wischalowe, the rattlesnake, whom the Delawares called “The Frightener.” When they all were assembled, the bear was made the leader.
“Running Fox, we have come here to help you,” said this strange medicine-creature. “You have stood the test, and now we are going to help you. You are setting out to do a hard thing. If you do exactly as we tell you, you will go through with it. What I have to say is short. You know that my people are brave and powerful. You must fight and kill one of my people. Then you must eat his heart, and wear his claws about your neck. This will make you as strong and as brave as we are. I have finished.”
“Running Fox, you have heard some one who is stronger and braver than I am,” declared Achtu, the deer. “But you must remember that strength and courage will not always save you. When you cannot fight you must run. My people are the fastest people who live in the woods. You are going out to do a great thing. I will tell you that you must kill one of my people, and eat his heart. Then you will be able to run faster than your enemies.”
“Running Fox, you have heard Machque, who is strong and brave, and Achtu, who is very swift, but you must also be very cautious. You are going upon a dangerous journey. If you are not careful you will surely be killed. My people are very hard to catch. If you can kill one of our old men, and cut off his ears, you will be as sharp as we are,” said Woakus, the fox.
“Running Fox, you have heard some great people,” growled Quenischquney, the panther. “Well, now I am going to help you. It is a good thing to be strong, and brave, and swift, and cautious, but you must also be able to steal up and surprise your enemies. No one can do that better than my people. But I must warn you that our young men are very fierce, and you will have a hard fight if you try to kill one of them. However, I will give you power to do it. Then you must take the longest claw from each foot, and keep them about you.”
“Running Fox, I am smaller and weaker than all these great people who have talked to you,” barked Wisawanik, the squirrel. “However, I am also more nimble, and better at hiding. If you wish to travel safely to the village where Standing Wolf lives, you must be nimble and good at hiding. If you will kill one of our chiefs who wear the black robes, and carry his scalp with you, you will be able to hide so well that your enemies will not be able to find you.”
“Running Fox, you have been promised some good things, but I am going to offer you the best of all,” boasted Gokhos, the owl. “If you have all the powers that these good friends are going to give you, it will all be useless without my gift When darkness falls then it will be safer to travel through the forest. But to do that you must have eyes that can look through the night. My people have this gift. If you can kill one of our great white leaders, who live far away in the country of the Mohawks, you will not only be able to see as well at night as by day, but you will also have magic power to overcome whoever may try to harm you.”
“Running Fox, you know me; I am called ‘The Frightener’,” said Wischalowe, the rattlesnake. “Whoever hears my warning trembles with fear. If you will kill one of our old men, and tie his war-drum to your belt so that it makes a noise when you walk you will frighten away all who seek to harm you.”
When Wischalowe finished speaking they all remained silent, waiting for some talk from Running Fox. For some moments he was at a loss as to just how to address these strange medicine-creatures. While he was thinking just how to thank them they suddenly disappeared. At that moment Running Fox regained consciousness. Day had dawned, and the sun was well above the eastern ridges. For a moment or so the bewildered lad looked anxiously about him, expecting to see the strange creatures that had appeared in his delirium. When he failed to find them his heart gave a great hound of joy, for he believed that they had been medicine-creatures sent by Getanittowit to help him. The idea gave him strength, and he struggled to his feet and offered thanks to Getanittowit. Then he toiled painfully down the mountainside. It took him most of the day to reach the valley. When he finally staggered into the camp he went directly to old Sky Dog, and collapsed as he reached the door of his lodge.
CHAPTER II—INTO THE PERILOUS NORTH
That night Running Fox sufficiently recovered his strength to tell his dream to Sky Dog, the medicine-man. The latter listened with much interest as the excited lad described his conference with the strange medicine-creatures. When he had finished his story, Sky Dog assured him that the dream was a good omen. He declared that if Running Fox would do as the medicine-creatures had advised he would pass safely through all perils, and live to accomplish his purpose.
Running Fox hurried to his father’s lodge with a joyful heart. Having been taught to believe all the simple superstitions of his people, he had implicit faith in the assurances of the medicine-man. Still he realized that his task was a difficult one. He knew that if the Mohawks discovered his trail they would hunt him down as relentlessly as a pack of wolves, and he felt sure that if he fell into their hands death at the torture stake would be his only alternative. The thought sobered him. However, it soon fled from his mind, for he believed that the mysterious powers which he had received from the medicine-creatures, and his own courage and resourcefulness, would enable him to outwit his foes.
Black Panther was much impressed by the story of the dream. He, too, declared that it was a good omen. He immediately sent criers through the village inviting the people to a feast to celebrate his son’s departure upon the war-trail.
When his plans became known Running Fox was besieged by a host of youthful volunteers who begged to accompany him. He refused them, however, as he was unwilling to assume the responsibility of a war-leader before he had tested his own courage and ability. Still there was one whom he found it difficult to deny. It was his friend, Spotted Deer, a lad of his own age, and his constant companion through all the happy years of boyhood. They had invariably shared every adventure, and the thought of being barred from the first real war-journey drove Spotted Deer into a frenzy of despair. He argued, he coaxed, he reproached, but Running Fox refused to yield.
“No, my brother, I will not listen to your words,” declared Running Fox. “A warrior must know how to fight before he leads his friends into danger. I have never faced an enemy. I do not know what will happen to me. Perhaps I shall do something foolish, and be killed. Spotted Deer, I must go alone. No, I will not change it in my heart.”
“Running Fox, now I know that you will do this thing without me,” replied Spotted Deer. “Well, I will not say anything more against it. I feel like a very old man.”
The night before Running Fox planned to set out upon his journey his friends came to his father’s lodge to talk with him. The last to leave was Spotted Deer. The two friends sat together a long time. Running Fox attempted to be light-hearted and gay, but Spotted Deer was moody and depressed. However, when Running Fox brought forth the new war-equipment which he had received from his father, Spotted Deer’s eyes lighted with enthusiasm, and he became lively and interested. Then, having inspected the various articles, he immediately relapsed into gloomy silence.
“My brother, when the next sun comes you are going away,” Spotted Deer said, solemnly, as he finally rose to leave. “Perhaps I shall never see you again. It is bad. I will not talk about it.”
They clasped hands, and looked earnestly into each other’s eyes. Then Spotted Deer hurried away. When he had gone Running Fox seated himself at the back of the lodge, and sat a long time staring moodily into the darkness.
That night Running Fox found it impossible to sleep. His mind was tortured by the thought of parting from his friend. Spotted Deer’s words kept ringing in his ears: “Perhaps I shall never see you again.” As the night dragged slowly along Running Fox was tempted to steal away while the inmates slept, to tell Spotted Deer that he might accompany him. He was dissuaded, however, by the fear of causing his friend’s death. Thus the miserable lad fought his battle until the first gray light of dawn stole into the lodge, and then he finally determined to venture into the treacherous northern wilderness alone.
When Running Fox appeared in the village equipped for the war-trail, he received a stirring ovation from his tribesmen. As he left his father’s lodge he was immediately surrounded by a company of enthusiastic friends, who paraded him about the camp to the accompaniment of shouts and war-songs. Spotted Deer, however, took no part in the celebration. Running Fox was greatly disturbed at his absence. When he finally asked about him he learned that an old woman had seen Spotted Deer hurrying away with his robe and weapons at dawn. She said that he had gone toward the south. The news filled Running Fox with gloom. He feared that grief might have driven Spotted Deer to some foolhardy resolve. However, Running Fox had little chance to think of him at the moment, for he soon found himself the center of a great throng of people who had gathered to do him honor.
The lad appeared to splendid advantage as he stood beside his father in the center of the camp. He was tall and graceful, with a fearless face and flashing black eyes. Unlike his father and the warriors, who wore their hair cropped close to the scalp, Running Fox had hair that reached to his shoulders. His dress was like that of the older men. He was naked above the waist, and wore a short buckskin skirt or tunic which extended to his knees. Fringed buckskin leggings covered his limbs. His moccasins were of elk-hide gayly decorated with dyed sweet grass. His equipment included an elk-skin robe, a hickory bow, a buckskin case filled with arrows, a flint knife, a stone war-club, a set of fire drills and a small bag filled with parched corn.
“My friends, here stands a young man dressed for the war-trail,” Black Panther told the Delawares. “Look closely at him for you may never see him again. He is going upon a dangerous journey, Yes, he is going into the country of our enemies, the boastful Mohawks, to find out how Standing Wolf gets his power. It is a great thing to do. If he lives through it I will give away many good presents. I have finished.”
The Delawares greeted the announcement with words of approval. Several prominent warriors made speeches praising the lad for his courage, and urging him to kill many Mohawks. Then old Sky Dog sang a number of sacred medicine-songs, and fastened a small buckskin bag containing sacred herbs about the neck of Running Fox to protect him from harm.
At the conclusion of the ceremony Running Fox set out upon his journey. He followed a well-worn Delaware hunting trail that led northward along the river. It was Kitschinipen, the summer planting season, and a great primeval wilderness was at its best. The day was glorious. The sky was cloudless, the air was soft and balmy and the earth was flooded with sunshine. Wild flowers dotted the trail, and birds sang from the trees and thickets. Running Fox found much to interest him. He stopped to watch Tiskemanis, the noisy blue fisher bird, plunge into the water after his prey. He called cheerily to Mehokuiman, the red bird. He frightened ugly Gundaschees, the water-snake, from his sunny log at the edge of the river. Then he heard the stealthy approach of Achtu, the deer. As he had been advised to kill one of the old bucks by the medicine-deer, Running Fox hastily prepared his arrow and concealed himself behind a tree. In a few moments the deer approached the river to drink. It was a doe, however, and the young Delaware withheld his arrow. He knew that she had a fawn concealed in some nearby thicket, and he had been taught to spare the mother and young of all creatures that there might always be plenty of game for the hunters. He waited until the doe had finished drinking, and then he showed himself. For a moment the surprised creature stared at him with big frightened eyes, and then hounded gracefully into the woods.
“Go in peace, my sister, I will not harm you,” cried Running Fox.
Soon afterward Running Fox had an experience that filled him with gloomy forebodings. He was seated upon a boulder at the edge of the water when he heard the harsh cries of Woapalanne, the great white-headed war-eagle. Looking into the sky he discovered the bird soaring in great circles directly above him. He feared that it was a bad omen, for old Sky Dog had told him that the sudden appearance of Woapalanne invariably meant war. Running Fox wondered if he was about to meet his enemies. Until that moment the possibility had never entered his mind, as he had considered himself quite safe as long as he remained within the Delaware boundaries. Now, as the war-eagle continued to hover over him, he became suspicious.
“Hi, Woapalanne, I see you flying around up there,” he cried, as he shook his bow at the eagle. “I hear you making a great noise up there. Sky Dog says it is a sign of war. Well, Woapalanne, you do not frighten me. I will not turn around. I have set out to do something, and I am going ahead with it. Woapalanne, Sky Dog says that you are a good friend. That is why I have told you what I am going to do. But you must not tell the Mohawks about me. That would be bad. Come, if you are a good friend you must help me. Now I am going up on top of that high mountain to look around.”
However, as Running Fox turned to enter the forest the eagle suddenly changed its tactics, and flew away toward the south. This unexpected maneuver greatly upset the young Delaware. His thoughts instantly turned to his friend, Spotted Deer. Having learned that the latter had departed upon some mysterious mission to the southward, Running Fox read a warning in the final action of the war-eagle. He believed that Spotted Deer was in peril. The thought refused to leave his mind.
When Running Fox reached the top of the ridge from which he planned to reconnoiter the surrounding country, his sharp eyes quickly discovered something which instantly aroused his interest, A thin wavering column of smoke was rising against the sky some distance to the southward. The sight of it filled him with emotion, for he knew that it came from the Delaware camp. The day was almost ended, and in the distant smoke cloud Running Fox saw a vision of the peaceful evening scene in the Delaware village. In fancy he saw the happy groups about the fires, and heard the songs and laughter. He wondered if he had been missed from the merry little company before his father’s lodge. Twilight was gathering, and the smoke column was slowly fading into the shadows. Running Fox looked upon it with longing eyes, for he knew that it would soon be gone. The thought saddened him. That frail spiral of smoke seemed like the last tie that bound him to his people, and he dreaded to see it broken. When it finally faded out in the dusk Running Fox felt a great loneliness surge into his heart.
After he had carefully examined the country through which he intended to pass on the following day, the young Delaware began to look for a safe place in which to spend the night. He believed that it might be dangerous to remain near the river, as he knew that hostile scouts often followed the waterways under cover of darkness. Besides, he was still upset by the actions of the war-eagle, and he determined to take every precaution. He finally decided to camp beside a little spring, high up on the mountainside.
Having killed a grouse earlier in the day, Running Fox broiled it over the embers of a tiny fire, which he was careful to conceal between two large rocks. Then, after he had eaten, he drew his robe about him, and sat with his back against a pine, listening to the night sounds of the wilderness. He heard Quekolis, the whippoorwill, raising his doleful lament down near the river. Running Fox had heard the old men tell weird tales about that mournful bird, and as he listened to its monotonous serenade he wondered if it really did possess all the mysterious powers with which the superstitions story tellers credited it. Then he heard shrill piping sounds from the grass, and he knew that the Zelozelous, the little black cricket people, were singing their medicine-songs. Some time later Running Fox was startled by a piercing scream that sounded from a distant ridge. He listened anxiously until it was repeated, and then he recognized it as the hunting cry of soft-footed Nianque, the lynx. Then the brooding, mysterious night-hush fell upon the forest.
Running Fox rose and raised his hands toward the heavens. After a few moments of reverent silence he began to pray to Getanittowit. He asked for courage and strength to perform his task. Then, after he had sung one of the sacred medicine-songs to drive away any evil spirits that might have discovered his fire, he prepared a couch of sweet-fern and lay down to sleep.
Two-thirds of the night had passed when Running Fox suddenly found himself sitting up, with his bow in his hands, staring anxiously into the dark. He did not know what had awakened him, and for a long time he neither heard or saw anything to give him a clue. He began to fear that he had been dreaming. Then a twig snapped, and he became suspicious. He knew that Mohawk scouts often ventured far into the Delaware hunting grounds, and he feared that one of those sharp-eyed foes had discovered his fire. The thought alarmed him. The possibility of an unseen enemy stealing upon him under cover of the night set his heart throbbing wildly. Still he had no idea of running away. Lying close to the ground, he fitted an arrow to his bow, and strained his eyes in an effort to find the mysterious prowler. For some time the silence was unbroken, and he began to think that he had been needlessly alarmed by some passing beast of the wilderness. Then he heard sounds which led him to believe that some one was cautiously approaching his hiding place. Convinced that he was about to experience his first encounter with an enemy, Running Fox waited with the calm reliance of a veteran. The noise had suddenly ceased, however, and the young Delaware believed that his foe had stopped to listen. A few moments later the soft querulous call of Gokhotit, the little red owl, sounded through the night. It seemed barely a bow-shot away, and Running Fox redoubled his vigilance. When he heard it again he became greatly excited. Then it was repeated a third time, and Running Fox breathed easier, for he recognized it as a signal from his friend, Spotted Deer.
Running Fox was undecided as to just what to do. His first impulse was to reply to the familiar signal, but he overcame it and remained silent. As he saw no reason to alter the decision he had made in the Delaware camp, he planned to steal away and elude his friend under the protection of the darkness. However, it soon became evident that sharp-witted Spotted Deer had guessed his intention.
“Hi, my brother, have you closed your ears to the greeting of a friend?” Spotted Deer inquired reproachfully. “I know that you are somewhere close by. Yes, I believe you are hiding away in the night. I have followed you here, and I will not turn back. No. If I do not find you, then as soon as it grows light I will follow your trail. Running Fox, I am going into the country of the boastful Mohawks with you. It is useless for you to say anything more against it. I have set out to do this thing, and now I am going through with it. Come, my brother, let us meet, and talk together. Now I am going to listen for something.”
Running Fox still remained silent. However, the loyalty and devotion of his friend had greatly affected him, and his heart was filled with conflicting emotions. He found it harder than ever to ignore the stirring appeal, and yet it seemed foolish to renew the discussion with Spotted Deer. At last, however, his great love for his friend forced him to answer.
“My brother, I have listened to your words. You have done a foolish thing to come here. I was going to run away, but now I am going to stay here and talk with you. I believe it is the best thing to do.”
A few moments afterward they clasped hands, while their eyes flashed the welcome that neither could utter. Although he was still determined to continue the journey alone, nevertheless Running Fox was delighted to see his friend. He knew now that his fears concerning him had come to nought, and it filled him with joy. It was evident that Spotted Deer had turned toward the south to fool the Delawares, and then had circled around to intercept his friend. Running Fox admired his stratagem.
“Running Fox, I believe your heart is bad toward me,” declared Spotted Deer. “You say that I have done a foolish thing. Perhaps it is true, but I will not turn back. If you do not listen to my words, then I will go away and let the Mohawks kill me. Now you know what I am thinking about. Yes, I am going through with it no matter how it comes out. I have finished.”
“Spotted Deer, you are a good friend,” Running Fox replied, warmly. “My heart is not bad toward you, but I must tell you that you have done a foolish thing. You must turn back. I am going ahead alone. I have told you about it many times. Now I must go through with it.”
They argued the question throughout the night. Then, as dawn crept slowly out of the east, Running Fox finally yielded to the persuasion of Spotted Deer.
“Spotted Deer, I see that you intend to do as you say,” declared Running Fox. “You say that if you do not go with me you will let the Mohawks kill you. That is very bad. Well, that makes me feel different about it. You are my friend, and I will not let you throw away your life. If you feel like going with me I cannot say anything more against it. Perhaps you will be killed, but I cannot help it. You have asked me to do something, and now I have done it.”
“Running Fox, you have done a good thing,” Spotted Deer cried, joyfully. “Now I will sing again. I am going with you to find out about the great chief Standing Wolf. Perhaps we will have many fights with the Mohawks. You say that we may be killed. Well, my brother, we will die together. It is enough.”
CHAPTER III—A THRILLING ADVENTURE
The sun was well above the mountains before the young Delawares descended to the river, and resumed the perilous journey into the north. Running Fox told Spotted Deer about the strange medicine-creatures that had appeared in his dream, and Spotted Deer became quite excited.
“That was a wonderful thing to happen to a person,” he declared, impressively. “You must do whatever those mysterious animals told you to do. I cannot help you. You must do those things alone. I have heard my father say that.”
“It is true,” agreed Running Fox. “If you try to help me it might do great harm.”
As the lads were still well within the northern boundary of the vast Delaware hunting grounds, they had little fear of an immediate encounter with their foes-Still they were cautious, for they knew that such an experience was not impossible, as both Shawnees and Iroquois frequently invaded that territory to hunt and fish. The Shawnees were a powerful nation living farther to the westward, with whom the Delawares had fought many desperate battles.
The day was about half spent when Running Fox suddenly dropped to his knees, and called excitedly to Spotted Deer. The fresh trail of a bear crossed a narrow strip of gravelly beach and disappeared into the woods. The tracks were huge, and it was evident that the animal had only recently crossed the river.
“See, here is the track of Machque,” said Running Fox, as he measured the footprints with his hands. “He must be very big, and very fierce. He cannot be far off. I will follow his trail, and try to kill him. Spotted Deer, you must wait until I come back. Perhaps it will take a long time to do this thing, but you must wait. It is the only thing to do.”
“I would like to go with you, but I believe it would be bad,” declared Spotted Deer. “You must do as it appeared in your dream. I will wait.”
A moment afterward Running Fox followed the tracks into the forest. The lad had been well trained in the art of hunting by his father, and his sharp eyes had little difficulty in keeping the trail. It led him along the side of a rocky hillside, and then down into the bushy tangle of a dark spruce swamp. The footprints looked very fresh, and Running Fox moved forward as noiselessly as a lynx. He stopped after every few strides to look, and listen and sniff. He had never killed a bear but he had heard the hunters tell many stories about that crafty beast, and he knew that it was only by using the utmost caution that he could hope to get within bow-shot. He crossed the swamp without coming in sight of his quarry, and followed the tracks over the top of another rocky hill. As he was climbing carefully toward the summit he came upon an ant-hill that had been dug open by the bear. The demoralized ants were still rushing frantically over the wreck of their lodge. On the other side of the hill Running Fox lost the trail on a steep ledge of smooth gray rock. Circling carefully around the ledge he finally picked up the tracks leading down into a narrow ravine that penetrated far back into the hills. As the sides of the gully were covered with blueberry bushes, the young Delaware understood why the bear had chosen that route. He saw many crushed and uprooted plants which told him that the hear was feeding upon the berries. Running Fox hurried along the ravine in the hope of overtaking the bear at its feast, but although the trail seemed continually to grow fresher the eager young hunter was unable to get within sight of his quarry.
The ravine at last led up to a wide grassy plateau closed in on three sides by low hardwood ridges. It looked like an ideal feeding ground for elk and deer, and Running Fox saw several well-trod trails leading through it. Then he saw something more interesting. Far over in the opposite corner of the plateau he discovered some animal lying down. It was beyond bow-shot, and Running Fox began to study how he might approach without being seen. When he had watched some moments he decided that the distant object was either an elk or a deer. As it failed to move he concluded that it was asleep. Then he suddenly thought of the bear tracks. They led directly out into the open plateau, and toward the mysterious object in the farther corner. Running Fox was perplexed. He knew that what he saw was not the bear. Still he realized that whatever it was it had come there after the bear had passed. The idea did not satisfy him, however, for he told himself that unless the bear had gone by a long time before, the keen nose of an elk or a deer would instantly have found the dreaded scent. In that event neither of those wary creatures would be likely to sleep on the fresh trail of their enemy. Running Fox felt positive that the bear had but recently crossed the plateau, for the grass which had been trodden down was still springing upright. Then the solution flashed into his mind—the animal he saw was dead.
Having come to that decision Running Fox began to look for the bear. He felt quite sure that it was somewhere near the carcass, unless it had discovered him and rushed away. Still he rather doubted that, for the wind was in his favor, and besides he believed that a bear as large as the one he had followed would be in no great hurry to run off. He had often heard his father tell how a bear would loiter in the vicinity of such a bait for several days, feeding when hunger prompted and sleeping in some nearby thicket between meals. Running Fox also realized that the bear might have been feeding as he approached, and upon catching sight or scent of him had retreated into the woods to watch. In any event he told himself that the first thing to do was to go and examine the bait.
Running Fox made his way cautiously along the edge of the plateau, taking advantage of whatever cover offered itself, and advancing against the wind. When he finally came within bow-shot of the bait he saw that it was an elk. Then he sat down to watch and listen. After he had waited a long time without seeing or hearing anything of the bear, he went forward to examine the elk. It was an old bull that apparently had died from old age. Running Fox was surprised to find that almost one whole side of the animal had already been eaten. He also saw that something had been tearing at the carcass but a short time previously. The grass was well trampled all about the bait, and Running Fox identified the tracks of many different animals. The freshest tracks, however, were the huge footprints of the bear which he had followed from the river. Running Fox believed that the bear was feeding upon the carcass when it suddenly became aware of his approach, and retreated into the woods. He felt quite certain that it would return, and he determined to conceal himself and watch.
The Delaware found much to interest him as he sat quietly in his hiding place and waited for the bear to return. A flock of crows were the first to appear. They made a great racket as they circled about the elk, and the eyes of the young hunter flashed with anger. He knew from experience that those noisy birds gave warning to all the wild things of the woods, and he feared that their senseless commotion might arouse the suspicions of the bear. They soon flew away, however, and Running Fox felt much relieved. A short time afterward he saw something moving along the edge of the timber at the other end of the plateau. In a few moments he identified it as a deer. He took its appearance for proof that the bear was not at the moment anywhere near. Then, as he watched the wary creature browsing in the shadow of the woods, he heard soft, stealthy footfalls directly behind him. Fitting an arrow to his how, Running Fox turned in time to find himself facing a large red fox. Before the surprised creature could bound to safety the expert young Delaware sent his arrow through its heart.
Recalling the advice of the medicine-fox which had appeared in his dream, Running Fox crawled noiselessly through the brush, and cut the ears from his victim. He saw that the fox was very old, as its teeth were worn almost to the gums. The discovery filled him with joy, for he felt sure that by carrying the ears of that wise old chief he would become as sharp and crafty himself.
Then for a long time nothing more appeared, and Running Fox began to grow restless. The day was almost at an end, and he feared that Spotted Deer would become impatient. Still he had no thought of leaving the plateau, and was determined to spend the night there if the bear failed to appear before dark. At sunset, however, he heard some large animal moving through the woods. It sounded too heavy for a deer, and too noisy for an elk, so that Running Fox believed it must be the bear. His heart bounded at the thought. He had heard many stories about thrilling battles with those great beasts of the wilderness, and he hoped that he, too, might experience such an adventure. Then, as the sounds drew nearer, all else was forgotten as the eager lad hurriedly fitted an arrow to his bow, and fixed his eyes on the edge of the woods.
Running Fox was not kept long in suspense. In a few moments he saw the bushes swaying, and the next instant a bear walked into the open. It was not the huge creature which Running Fox had pictured in his mind, but his disappointment soon gave way to surprise as two half-grown cubs immediately followed their mother from the woods. All three animals soon walked within range, but the bewildered young hunter withheld his arrow. He feared to kill the mother bear and her young lest he should offend the great medicine-bear which had appeared in his dream. Besides, he told himself that a warrior could scarcely boast of such a feat. He watched, therefore, while the old bear led her cubs to the carcass of the elk, and began to feed.
Some time later when the mother bear raised her head and sniffed the air, Running Fox instantly became alert. As the old bear continued to watch the woods, the lad began to hope that the animal he had followed might be returning. However, the bear soon resumed feeding, and Running Fox believed that he was again doomed to disappointment. At that very moment, however, a stick cracked over in the spot toward which the mother bear had been looking. She again raised her head and sniffed. Then she began to growl. Running Fox watched anxiously. For some moments all was still, but the bear continued to growl, and sniff suspiciously. Then a great black object appeared at the edge of the woods. Running Fox knew at once that it was the bear he had trailed from the river. As it walked slowly into the open and he saw how big it was he could scarcely believe his eyes. It seemed to be very fierce, for it approached the bait growling and snapping its jaws. As it drew near Running Fox saw a round white spot, half as large as his hand, directly behind its shoulder. It immediately fired the imagination of the superstitious young Delaware. He believed that Getanittowit had placed that mark upon the bear to guide the Delaware arrow.
Running Fox had been so absorbed in watching the approach of the giant that for the moment he had forgotten all about the mother bear and her cubs. Now he heard her growling and gnashing her teeth. He had expected to see her dash away at the first sight of the intruder, but she showed no such intention. Instead she gave every evidence of disputing the right of ownership which the big bear apparently intended to assert. Running Fox looked upon her with admiration as she stood there snapping her jaws, and growling defiance at the huge brute that threatened her. For a few moments the big bear stood watching her in surprise. He seemed puzzled by her unexpected show of resistance. Then it roused his fighting spirit, and he rushed forward roaring furiously.
As the cubs dashed for the timber, squealing with terror, the mother bear prepared to meet the attack. She appeared scarcely more than half the size of the monster that had attacked her, and yet she seemed quite as fierce and eager to fight as he. When the big bear came within range she rushed at him, and he reared and attempted to fall upon her. She was too quick, however, and as he crashed down she rushed in and closed her jaws upon a hind leg. Wheeling with the agility of a panther, he snapped viciously at her neck, but she released her hold and jumped tuck in time to save herself. Then he rushed at her in blind fury, and knocked her off her feet. Turning upon her back, she clawed him like a wildcat. Snarling, biting and tearing, the maddened beasts fought with a fury that meant destruction to the vanquished. It soon became evident that the mother bear was doomed to defeat. The tremendous bulk and strength of her antagonist made him invincible. He was inflicting terrible punishment upon his courageous foe, and it seemed only a matter of moments before he would have her completely at his mercy.
However, it was at that stage of the encounter that Running Fox joined in the fray. Completely carried away by the fierceness of the fight, the lad jumped to his feet and shot his arrow at the big bear. In his excitement, however, he missed his aim, and the arrow struck about a hand-width above the white patch behind the shoulder. The bear twisted about and snapped off the shaft close to its body. Then both bears caught sight of him, and immediately ceased fighting. For a moment, as they stood glaring at him and snarling, it looked as if they intended to unite in attacking their common enemy. Then, as Running Fox drove a second arrow into the body of the giant, the latter rushed forward alone. At that instant the cubs began whimpering at the edge of the forest, and the mother bear, weak and suffering from a score of ugly wounds, ambled painfully off to join them. As the great bear came roaring down upon him the young Delaware realized that he was fighting for his life, and the thought steadied him. Twice more he sent his arrows tearing into the great muscular body, but they seemed to have little effect. The infuriated bear stopped just long enough to snap at the feathered shafts, and then it made a final rush at its foe. However, during that momentary delay Running Fox had fitted another arrow to his bow. He held it until the bear was only a few paces away, and then, as it rose unsteadily upon its hind legs, he uttered the shrill Delaware war-cry and drove the arrow deep between its fore legs. The giant crashed to the ground, and the excited lad immediately rushed forward to strike it with his war-club. At that moment, however, the bear suddenly recovered and struggled to its feet. The surprised young hunter almost collided with it. It struck savagely at him, but he jumped aside, and shot an arrow into the fatal mark behind the shoulder. It finished the fight. The bear sank slowly to the ground, and lay still. This time, however, Running Fox was more cautious, and he remained at a safe distance until the last signs of life had vanished. Then he ran eagerly forward and began to cut off the great curved claws.
By the time Running Fox had finished his task darkness had already fallen, and as he was a considerable distance from the river he determined to remain where he was until daylight. Then he suddenly thought of the wounded mother bear. He feared that she was too badly hurt to travel far away, and he had already seen enough of her temper to make him cautious about risking an encounter in the dark. He left the plateau, therefore, and spent the night farther down the ravine.
CHAPTER IV—IN THE GRIP OF THE RAPIDS
The sun was already above the tree-tops when Running Fox finally rejoined Spotted Deer at the river. They seated themselves on a fallen tree, and Running Fox showed his trophies and described his encounter with the bear. When Spotted Deer heard about the peculiar white patch on the bear’s shoulder he suggested that it might have been caused by a former arrow wound. Running Fox scoffed at the idea, however, and insisted that the mark had been placed there by Getanittowit.
“Yes, I believe that must be the way of it,” Spotted Deer agreed, finally.
Running Fox said that they must eat the heart of the bear to comply with the instructions which he had received in his dream. They kindled a tiny fire, and broiled the meat on a willow branch. Then, after Running Fox had sung several medicine-songs to pacify the spirit of the bear, the superstitious young warriors divided the precious trophy and ate it with solemn ceremony.
“Now I will tell you something,” said Spotted Deer. “After you went away I began to look around. I walked along beside the water. Pretty soon I heard a loud noise. Then I came to a place where the water goes very fast. It makes a great noise and jumps up and down. Yes, it looks very mad. I do not like that place. I believe the Bad Water Spirits live there. I have heard my father tell about them. He says that they are very fierce, and are always fighting down there under the water. Yes, that is what makes the commotion. My father has told me that when any one falls into such a place he is broken against the rocks, and eaten by those Bad Water Spirits.”
“Yes, that is so, I have heard about it,” declared Running Fox.
“Well, I stood there a long time watching that place,” continued Spotted Deer. “Then I went ahead. Pretty soon I saw a long strip of woods out there in the middle of the water. I heard many birds singing in the trees, and I stopped to listen. Then I saw some big rocks sticking out of the water. As I was looking at them I saw a very big fish jumping along between the rocks and the woods. Pretty soon I saw another. My eyes told me that it was Schawanammek, the great sturgeon. Well, I kept watching and I saw many of those big fish passing along. Then I saw how they came to be in that place. The water was very swift all around that strip of land, but between the rocks and the woods it was not so bad. Well, when I saw those big fish I wanted to spear some of them with my arrows. I said, ‘Hi, I will swim out to that place and kill some of those fish.’ Then I saw how swift the water was, and I heard the noise of that bad place below. Well, I began to think about it. I said, ‘I will wait until Running Fox comes back, and then we will talk about it.’ Now we will go and see it.”
“Yes, let us go,” proposed Running Fox, as his eyes lighted with enthusiasm.
As the lads hurried along the river they soon heard the sullen roar of the rapids, and their hearts bounded at the sound. Then they came upon the long stretch of tossing white-caps, and they stopped and looked with superstitious awe upon the wild tumult of the waters. It was a terrifying spectacle. As Spotted Deer had said, the river appeared to have been roused into a fury. It raged past in great surging waves that crashed against the rocks and sent drenching showers of spray high into the air. In the calmer reaches the water whirled down into seething black pools which sucked down into their dismal depths whatever the torrent tossed into them. The Delawares shuddered as they looked upon them, for they seemed like doors to that weird underwater world where the Bad Water Spirits were supposed to dwell.
“That is a bad place,” Banning Fox said, solemnly.
“Come, let us hurry away,” proposed Spotted Deer.
A short distance beyond the head of the rapids they came opposite the wooded island which Spotted Deer had described. They had not watched it many moments before they saw a great fish jump from the water between the rocks and the shore.
“See, there is Schawanammek!” Spotted Deer cried, excitedly.
“Yes, I saw him,” replied Running Fox. “Look, there goes another.”
They watched several large sturgeon fight their way through the narrow channel that separated the rocks from the island.
“Well, now you see how it is,” said Spotted Deer. “Do you feel strong enough to swim out there and kill some of those fish?”
For some moments Running Fox continued to study the water in silence. The river was smooth but swift at that spot, and the head of the rapids was dangerously near. Their angry roar sounded an ominous warning, and Running Fox hesitated. He realized that the adventure was filled with peril, and wondered whether he ought to risk himself for the mere sport of killing Schawanammek. It seemed foolhardy for one bound upon an important mission to take unnecessary chances. However, as the great fish continued to show themselves Running Fox began to waver. Then he suddenly realized that Spotted Deer was awaiting his decision, and the latter’s proposal instantly seemed like a challenge. Running Fox believed that Spotted Deer might be testing his courage. The possibility made him reckless. Under those circumstances he would have tried to reach the island even though he knew that the attempt was certain to cost him his life.
“Spotted Deer, I am going to swim out to that place, and kill some of those fish,” declared Running Fox. “Will you go with me?”
“Yes, I will go,” Spotted Deer replied, quietly.
“It will be a hard thing to do,” Running Fox warned him. “That water is very strong. It will carry us along very fast. We must go farther ahead, before we start to swim. If we get to that place perhaps we cannot get away again. I do not know how it will be. Well, I am going to do this thing no matter how it comes out.”
They walked along the shore until they were several bow-shots above the island. Then, after they had concealed their robes and moccasins in the bushes, they tied their bows and arrow-cases on their backs and waded into the water. As it reached their knees they began to feel its strength, Each stride forward made it more difficult to remain upon their feet. When they had waded in waist-deep they threw themselves forward and began to swim.
Once started, the lads swam boldly toward the middle of the river. Each stroke took them into swifter water, and they soon realized the seriousness of their adventure. Still they had no thought of turning back. The river swept them along at startling speed, and they swam desperately to get in line with the island. As they neared it they were dismayed to see great boulders directly ahead of them. They knew that unless they could get beyond them they would be swept against them and destroyed.
“Come, we must swim harder,” cried Running Fox.
They redoubled their efforts. Every moment was precious. Running Fox was the stronger swimmer, and he began to fear for Spotted Deer who was several bow-lengths behind him. However, Spotted Deer saw his peril, and was struggling desperately to place himself beyond the path of the boulders. At last his efforts were successful, and he followed Running Fox to the head of the island. They found a shallow place where they managed to get upon their feet and scramble safely to the shore.
“Hi, that was a hard fight,” panted Spotted Deer, as they sat down to recover from their exertions.
“Spotted Deer, I see that we have done a foolish thing,” Running Fox said, soberly.
“Are you thinking about those Bad Water Spirits?” inquired Spotted Deer, as he looked toward the rapids.
“No, I am not thinking about those mysterious people, but I believe we have got ourselves into a trap,” declared Running Fox. “It was a hard fight to get to this place, but it will be harder to get away.”
The idea sobered them. For the moment they forgot all about Schawanammek, the great sturgeon. As they watched the river sweeping past them, and heard the angry challenge of the rapids, they suddenly realized that they had placed themselves in a serious predicament.
“Well, we have come here to kill some of those big fish,” said Running Fox, attempting to make light of the adventure.
“Yes, let us go and find them,” proposed Spotted Deer.
They moved carefully along the wooded shore of the island until they reached the narrow channel between the island and the boulders. The water was comparatively quiet at that place, and they were able to wade out to a large flat-topped rock upon which they seated themselves to watch for sturgeon. As they waited for the first big fish to appear they cast many uneasy glances toward the rapids. They appeared uncomfortably near the lower end of the island. The noise seemed much louder. The lads wondered whether they had underestimated the distance between the island and that long stretch of white-crested waves. Then a sturgeon entered the narrow channel, and all else was forgotten.
“Hi, here comes Sehawanammek!” cried Spotted Deer, as he hastily prepared his bow.
As the great fish swam past the rock Spotted Deer drove his arrow into it. It floundered helplessly for a moment or so, and Running Fox also sent an arrow into its body. Then, to the surprise of the excited young Delawares, the sturgeon turned and flashed down the channel with the current. A few moments afterward they saw it drifting helplessly into the rapids.
“That is bad,” said Spotted Deer. “We have lost two good arrows, and Schawanammek has fooled us.”
“Well, we have sent some good food to Gunammachk, the otter,” laughed Running Fox.
It was some time before another sturgeon appeared, and that, too, would have been swept away by the river if Running Fox had not jumped recklessly into the water and seized it. Aided by Spotted Deer he dragged it to the island, and pulled it into the bushes.
“Well, we have killed Schawanammek,” said Spotted Deer. “Now we must eat some of his flesh. Then we will be able to swim through the bad places like he does.”
“Yes, I believe it will be a good thing to do,” agreed Running Fox.
Having left their fire-sticks with their robes, the lads were compelled to eat the fish raw. Then they began to think about leaving the island. They had no desire to waste more arrows on such easy game.
“Now we must get away from here,” said Running Fox.
“I see that it will be a hard thing to do,” declared Spotted Deer. “I believe I was very foolish to talk about coming here. Now I have got you into a bad place. I do not like that.”
“Spotted Deer, I came here because I wanted to show you that I was not afraid. It was a foolish thing to do. Perhaps those Bad Water Spirits will kill us. Then our people will say, ‘Running Fox was not sharp enough to escape from the Mohawks.’ I am sorry I came here.”
They walked to the head of the island, and looked longingly toward the forest on the river bank. It seemed a long ways off, and the water looked very swift. Their task was to reach the shore before the current carried them into the rapids. They knew that to do that they would have to swim even harder and faster than they swam to reach the island. Running Fox believed that he might be equal to the task, but he had grave misgivings about Spotted Deer. The latter, however, felt quite as confident as Running Fox. Before they entered the water Running Fox sang several of the medicine-songs which old Sky Dog had taught him for just such emergencies. Then, having asked Getanittowit to help them, the lads began their perilous battle with the river.
It was impossible to make any headway directly against the current, and the lads swam at a sharp angle but with their faces turned up the river. They had not gone far, however, before they saw that they were exhausting themselves without gaining enough to make the effort worth while. Then Running Fox turned and swam directly across the current. He found himself sweeping rapidly down the river, and he had grave doubts of reaching the shore before he drifted into the rapids. Each moment he heard their angry roar growing louder in his ears, and it nerved him to greater efforts. Calling upon Spotted Deer to increase his exertions Running Fox began a furious fight against the current. Strive as he might, however, he was unable to stay his mad flight down the river. The rapids were now only half as far away as they were when he started, and Running Fox began to lose heart. He had gone only a third of the distance between the shore and the island and each bow-length he drifted found him in rougher water. It suddenly dawned on him that it would be impossible to escape the rapids. For a moment the thought overwhelmed him, and he was on the point of surrendering. Then he heard a wild despairing cry behind him. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Spotted Deer turning back toward the island. Running Fox knew at once that the exhausted lad would never reach his goal. Twisting about he swam with the current to intercept Spotted Deer in his wild plunge down the river.
“Come, Spotted Deer, show your courage!” cried Running Fox.
The challenge roused Spotted Deer to heroic efforts. He fought just long enough to enable Running Fox to get in line with him, and then he ceased struggling.
“Come, follow me!” shouted Running Fox. “Do not waste yourself. Let the water carry you. Watch out for the bad places.”
A moment later they were sweeping toward the rapids. Running Fox picked the route, and Spotted Deer tried to follow him. There was little chance to swim. All they could do was to keep themselves afloat, and try to dodge the rocks and whirlpools. It was a desperate chance, and the odds were all against them. However, it was the only chance for life and Running Fox had decided to take it. When they reached the head of the rapids they shot forward into a stifling smother of white-caps. Then they swirled down through the raging inferno of water at terrific speed. Monster waves surged over them, huge boulders flashed by within bow-length. Running Fox found it impossible to pick a route, and, terrified and bewildered, he confined his efforts to keeping his head above the surface and left the rest to chance. As for Spotted Deer, he lost sight of his companion as soon as they entered the rapids, and he, too, thought only of keeping from going down into the clutches of the Bad Water Spirits. Gasping, choking and struggling, the unfortunate lads were carried down the river. Once Running Fox crashed into a boulder, but fortunately it was a glancing blow and he escaped with nothing more serious than bruises. Spotted Deer drifted into one of the sucking black pools, and in some miraculous manner was whirled around the edge and thrown back into the current. There seemed no hope that either of the swimmers would escape with his life.
Running Fox, however, finally reached the end of the rapids alive. When he found himself afloat in calm water he could scarcely believe his good fortune. His first thought was for Spotted Deer. He was nowhere in sight. What had become of him? There seemed but one answer. He had been pulled down by the Bad Water Spirits. Running Fox looked toward the rapids, and his eyes glowed savagely. Then he saw something bobbing down through the waves, and a great hope entered his heart.
“Fight, Spotted Deer! Fight! I am here to help you!” screamed Running Fox, as he saw the form of his friend sweeping toward the end of the rapids.
His words were useless, however, for Spotted Deer could not hear them. As his limp body finally shot into the still water and sank from sight, Running Fox dove after it and brought him to the surface. Then he swam painfully to the shore with him, and placed him tenderly on the beach. There was an ugly wound over his eye, and his limbs were bruised and swollen. Running Fox himself was bloody and bruised, but he gave no thought to his wounds. Bending frantically over his friend he worked feverishly to expel the water from his lungs. He had seen his people restore more than one unfortunate swimmer, and he had hopes of bringing Spotted Deer back to life. However, his efforts seemed in vain and he called hysterically upon Getanittowit for aid.
“O Getanittowit, see what the Bad Water Spirits have done,” he cried. “O Getanittowit, take pity on me, and give me back my brother, Spotted Deer. See, Getanittowit, he is sleeping. O Getanittowit, take pity on him and wake him up.”
Then he worked with renewed energy. Still Spotted Deer showed no signs of life. Running Fox was on the verge of collapse. He realized that he would soon be unable to continue his efforts. The thought roused him. Then, when he had given up hope, Spotted Deer sighed and opened his eyes. He stared stupidly at Running Fox, and again lapsed into unconsciousness. Still he was alive, and that was sufficient for Running Fox. His strength returned, and he continued his exertions until Spotted Deer regained consciousness. Then, as the latter smiled and whispered his name, Running Fox fell exhausted beside him.
CHAPTER V—WOLVES
The following day found the Delawares too stiff and sore from their battle with the rapids to proceed with their journey. They limped as far as the spot where they had hidden their robes, and made no attempt to go farther. Besides, they had lost a number of their arrows in the river, and they spent the day making others to replace them. Toward evening as Running Fox was stalking several grouse that had alighted in a tree, he suddenly came upon a number of tracks that immediately claimed his attention. Dropping to his knees he examined them with great care. Then he rose and hastened to tell Spotted Deer, whom he had left resting upon a couch of hemlock boughs.
“Spotted Deer, if you feel strong enough you must rise and follow me,” said Running Fox. “I have found something to show you.”
“I will go,” declared Spotted Deer, rising stiffly to his feet.
They soon reached the spot where Running Fox had discovered the tracks, and Spotted Deer examined them with much interest.
“This is strange,” he said after a few moments. “These tracks look like the tracks of big dogs. How did they get here? Are we near a camp?”
“No, Spotted Deer, these are not dog tracks,” said Running Fox. “That is what I took them for when I first saw them. Then I knew different. These are the tracks of Timmeu, the wolf.”
“It is true,” replied Spotted Deer.
They noted that the tracks were several days old, and that the trail turned toward the north. It was also apparent that there had been a goodly number of wolves, for the lads saw tracks of various sizes. That night as they sat beside a small fire broiling the grouse which Running Fox had killed their thoughts turned to the wolf pack.
“I have heard the hunters tell about those wolves,” said Running Fox. “They are very large and very fierce. They have fought with many of our people. My father killed some of them when he was hunting along the river.”
“Why are they down in this country?” inquired Spotted Deer. “This is not the time for them to come down here. I have heard the hunters say that in the time of growing things they travel far beyond the country of the Mohawks.”
“What you say is so,” replied Running Fox. “When it is cold our people have found them down near our village. I do not know how they come to be here now.”
“Perhaps we shall see them,” Spotted Deer suggested, hopefully.
“No, I do not believe it,” said Running Fox.
The next day they resumed their journey at daylight. They had quite recovered from their trip through the rapids, and excepting a few minor cuts and bruises showed little evidence of the rough treatment which they had received from the river. They felt that they had escaped with a very light penalty for their foolishness, and they were very grateful to Getanittowit. However, they agreed that they would be more careful in the future.
“Pretty soon we will come to dangerous country,” said Spotted Deer, as they continued up the river.
“Yes, we must keep a sharp watch for our enemies,” replied Running Fox.
They traveled through a splendid forest of massive oaks and chestnuts, and they saw many signs of game. At one place they again saw wolf tracks, but they were many days old and the lads gave them little thought. Then they came upon a well-worn trail leading away from the river, and as it showed fresh deer tracks they determined to follow it. It soon led them to a shallow pool in the center of an open marshy swale. From the numberless footprints, and the manner in which the ground had been pawed, they knew at once that the place was a natural salt-lick. They also knew that animals of all sorts frequented such places, and as the day was less than half spent they determined to spend some time watching for game.
“Perhaps we shall see some of the creatures that appeared in my dream,” said Running Fox.
The wish was soon gratified, for they had barely concealed themselves at the edge of the woods when they heard something approaching. They watched closely, and in a few moments a splendid buck appeared on the border of the marsh.
“Achtu,” whispered Spotted Deer.
“Sh,” cautioned Running Fox, as he prepared an arrow.
The wind was in their favor, and they had little fear of being discovered. The deer made a splendid picture as it stood silhouetted against the vivid green background of the forest. It was a big, graceful creature, with horns still sheathed in the soft moss-like covering which protects them until they complete their growth in the autumn. The buck spent some moments listening, and sniffing for signs of danger. Then, satisfied that all was well, he started toward the pool. At that moment, however, the wind veered and brought him the danger scent. For one fleeting instant he halted with his head raised in alarm. Then, having located the danger, he wheeled and sprang toward shelter. Two arrows sped after him. One flew high and stuck in a sapling, but the other buried itself in his side. Then with a great bound he disappeared into the woods. The lads heard him crashing away in mad flight, and they looked at each other with disgust.
“That was bad work,” said Running Fox. “I was not ready. The wind fooled us.”
“My arrow is sticking in that tree,” laughed Spotted Deer.
“Well, we must follow him,” declared Running Fox. “My arrow struck too far back, but perhaps it will make him lie down.”
They hastened to the spot where the buck had disappeared, and found a number of large red splashes upon the leaves. It was evident that the deer had been hard hit, and they started hopefully on the trail. The buck was traveling in great bounds, and bleeding freely. It was not long, however, before they noticed that he was slackening his speed.
“We will soon come up with him,” said Running Fox.
Both lads were well experienced in the art of deer hunting, and they instantly recognized the unmistakable signs that promised an early collapse. They hurried along the trail, therefore, with high hopes of overtaking their quarry before the end of the day. The tracks led them into a vast hemlock swamp, and they advanced with great caution, for it looked like an ideal hiding place for the wounded buck. They soon saw that the deer had begun to walk, and at one place they saw that it had stopped as if preparing to lie down. It had gone on, however, and the lads hurried after it, keeping a sharp watch on all sides lest it should suddenly spring from cover and escape. As they penetrated into the gloomy depths of the swamp they saw many fresh tracks of lynx, and foxes and rabbits, but they paid little attention to them for they knew from experience that it was only by constant vigilance that they could hope to overtake and surprise the animal they sought.
“See, he is growing weak,” said Running Fox, as he pointed to a place in the trail which indicated that the buck had stumbled awkwardly over a log that lay in his path.
Then they saw him lying under a spruce a short distance ahead of them. The buck saw them at the same instant, and struggled to his feet. Running Fox shot his arrow and scored another hit, but as Spotted Deer released his bow-string the buck dashed between the trees and vanished from sight.
“He will not run so far this time,” prophesied Running Fox.
The trail turned off at a sharp angle, and soon brought them to the edge of the swamp. They followed it through the woods to a pretty woodland stream, and there they found the buck lying dead beside the water.
“Well, I have done what the great medicine deer told me to do,” said Running Fox.
“It is good,” replied Spotted Deer.
When they finished skinning and quartering the deer the twilight shadows were falling upon the forest, and they decided to spend the night beside the stream. As they were some distance from the river, they believed it might be safe to make a tiny fire and dry some of the meat to take with them. They worked at the task until long after darkness had fallen. Then, as they wrapped themselves in their robes, and were preparing to sleep, Spotted Deer suddenly sat up and listened anxiously.
“What is that?” he asked Running Fox.
For a moment or so they heard only the gentle murmuring of the breeze through the tree-tops. Then, far away in the night, they heard a sound that thrilled them. It was the hunting cry of the wolf-pack. They had heard it more than once in the winter near the Delaware village, and they recognized it immediately.
“Timmeu has found the blood trail,” said Running Fox.
The sounds came from somewhere beyond the swamp, and the lads had little doubt that the wolves were following the trail of the wounded buck. The thought stirred them, for they believed that they were about to have an encounter with the savage brutes about which they had heard so many wonderful tales. The sounds soon united in a wild babel that grew louder and more distinct each moment.
“They are coming fast,” said Spotted Deer.
“Well, we will wait for them,” declared Running Fox. “Come, we will bring in some brush for the fire, so that we can see them.”
They hurried to gather several armfuls of dry wood. Then they raked together the embers of their fire, and fanned them into a flame. By that time it was evident that the wolves were almost through the swamp. They were making a great din, and it seemed as if there were many animals in the pack. The eyes of the Delawares flashed as the wild baying drew nearer.
“Now they are getting close,” cried Spotted Deer.
“Yes, they have come out of the swamp,” replied Running Fox.
The lads had heard enough about that famous pack to feel sure that they would be attacked. Still the possibility failed to alarm them. They felt confident that they would be able to defend themselves, and they were eager for the fight. Then, as they waited anxiously for the wolves to appear, the commotion suddenly ceased.
“Perhaps the fire has frightened them away,” Spotted Deer said, regretfully.
“No, I do not believe it,” replied Running Fox. “Timmeu is very cautious. Perhaps they saw our fire. Perhaps they found the man scent. They are sneaking up to have a look at us. I have heard my father tell how they do that. We must keep a sharp watch.”
They listened anxiously, and peered eagerly into the darkness in the hope of locating the wolves. They felt quite certain that the wily brutes were close at hand endeavoring to learn the strength of their enemies before exposing themselves. For a long time, however, the alert young hunters could find no evidence of them. Then they heard a snarl almost in front of them. A moment afterward a pair of shining green eyes flashed in the darkness. The next instant they were gone.
“Come, we must put some brush on the fire,” said Running Fox.
As the flames flared up and threw a circle of yellow light some distance into the woods, the lads fitted arrows to their bows and watched for a chance at the wolves. However, it appeared that those crafty beasts were wise enough to keep beyond the glow. The Delawares heard them trotting about through the undergrowth, but they were unable to see them. The caution displayed by the wolves seemed like cowardice to the eager lads who waited impatiently for them to attack, and they began to doubt some of the stories they had heard concerning their ferocity.
“These animals are not brave,” sneered Spotted Deer. “Come, let us run out and chase them away.”
“That would be a foolish thing to do,” cautioned Running Fox. “We must not take any chances. I believe what we have heard is true. Perhaps they are getting ready to make a big fight. Listen. Do you hear that? It is their war-cry. Now we must be ready.”
A long, quavering howl sounded through the night. It was the rallying cry, and it was immediately answered by a wild din from the pack. It was evident that the wolves were growing bolder. They trotted about at the edge of the firelight, and the lads caught fleeting glimpses of dim, shadowy forms slinking through the shadows.
“Perhaps they will get brave enough to fight,” laughed Spotted Deer.
“They will fight,” Running Fox assured him.
The carcass of the deer was between the lads and the wolves, and it appeared that the latter were preparing to fight for possession of it. Still, it was some time before they grew hold enough to expose themselves in the firelight. At last, however, one great wolf more reckless than its companions rushed toward the prize. As it came into the glow Spotted Deer shot his arrow, and the wolf rolled into the hushes, howling dismally. Elated at his success, Spotted Deer raised his voice in the Delaware war-cry.
“That was a bad thing to do,” said Running Fox. “Perhaps that will reach the ears of an enemy.”
“It is true, Running Fox, I was very foolish,” Spotted Deer acknowledged, guiltily.
At that instant the wolves charged in a body, and the lads saw that they would have all the fighting they desired. They killed several of the leaders, and for a moment the others hesitated. Then they divided and formed a circle, and the Delawares realized that they had been surrounded. Once roused to the attack, the wolves showed little fear, and the lads soon found themselves engaged in a desperate encounter. Standing back to back to prevent being attacked from the rear, they fought furiously to keep the ferocious animals from reaching them. More than one wolf was stopped in mid-air as it leaped forward to drag them to the ground. Once Running Fox was compelled to use his war-club to crush the skull of a wolf that had eluded his arrow. A moment later he heard a warning cry from Spotted Deer, and wheeling about he saw the latter borne to earth by a huge wolf that had two arrows sticking in its side. Running Fox drove a third arrow into the fatal spot behind the shoulder, and Spotted Deer leaped to his feet unharmed. Then the wolves suddenly became demoralized, and retreated into the shadows. Spotted Deer was eager to follow them, but Running Fox cautioned against it.
“We have had a hard fight, but we have come out of it,” said Running Fox. “If we follow the wolves into the darkness we may be torn to pieces.”
“Perhaps that is so,” agreed Spotted Deer.
They piled more brush on the fire, and kept a sharp watch for another attack. However, as the time passed and the wolves failed to appear, the lads believed that they had skulked off. Still it was a long time before they dared to leave the fire to recover their arrows from the bodies of the wolves they had killed. While they were engaged in the task they heard savage snarls coming from the darkness, and saw the flash of angry eyes. They realized, therefore, that they were in constant danger of attack by the wounded wolves that had been unable to retreat with the pack.
“This is dangerous work,” said Running Fox. “I believe the best thing to do would be to wait until the light comes.”
He had barely uttered the warning, however, when a great black form rushed from behind a rock and attacked him. It snapped savagely at his legs, but he jumped aside in time to avoid the cruel white fangs. Then he wheeled at bay. He saw the hateful green eyes glaring at him through the night, and he aimed his arrow a short distance below them. As he released the bow-string the wolf attempted to spring at him, but the arrow plunged deep into its chest and ended its life. After that narrow escape the lads decided to withdraw to the fire. They gathered enough wood to last them through the night, and planned to take turns watching until daylight.
CHAPTER VI—A PROWLER IN THE DARK
The night passed without further attack, and at dawn the lads scouted carefully about the scene of the battle and found the bodies of twelve large timber wolves. They found another wounded wolf hiding under the top of a fallen tree, and they rushed upon it and killed it with their war-clubs. Well pleased with their victory, the young Delawares spent some time chanting war-songs and dancing about the bodies of their victims. Then they broke off the tusks of the largest wolves as trophies to be proudly exhibited when they finally returned to the Delaware village.
On the way back to the river Running Fox saw a small dark animal bounding along ahead of him. He immediately ran in pursuit of it, and as it flashed up the trunk of a tree he saw that it was, as he had guessed, a black squirrel. The squirrel hid on one side of the tree, and as Running Fox moved cautiously about the tree-trunk the crafty little creature moved with him, so that he was unable to surprise it. At last, however, Running Fox took his bow and stirred the leaves on the opposite side of the tree. It was an old hunting trick which he had learned from his father, and it proved entirely successful. Thinking that its pursuer was coming around on that side the bewildered squirrel edged around in full view of Running Fox. A moment afterward it fell at his feet with an arrow through its body.
“Well, Wisawanik knows how to hide, but I fooled him,” laughed Running Fox, as he held up the prize. “See, Spotted Deer, I have killed a chief who wears the black robe. Yes, I have done what the medicine creatures told me to do.”
Running Fox removed the black pelt with great care, and fastened it to his belt. Then they continued toward the river. As they neared the water they climbed to the top of a hardwood ridge to reconnoiter. They knew that they were almost at the end of the Delaware hunting grounds, and the thought made them cautious.
“Pretty soon we will enter the country of our enemies,” said Running Fox. “Many of our people have been killed in that country. We must be very watchful.”
“We will be as sharp as Woakus, the fox,” replied Spotted Deer.
They were able to see a long way up and down the river from the top of the ridge, and they studied the water with great care. However, as they failed to discover anything to arouse their suspicions, they soon resumed their way into the north. The day was more than half gone when Running Fox suddenly stopped, and pointed to a high rocky cliff on the opposite side of the river, and then to a massive dead pine directly ahead of them.
“Do you see that high rocky place over there?” he inquired, turning to Spotted Deer.
“Yes, I see it,” replied Spotted Deer.
“Do you see that big tree ahead of us?”
“Yes, I see it.”
“Well, we have reached the beginning of the great Iroquois hunting grounds,” declared Running Fox. “It begins over there on that side where you see those rocks, and it begins on this side where you see that big tree ahead of us. Do you know anything about those rocks?”
“No, I do not know about them,” replied Spotted Deer.
“Well, I will tell you about something that happened there,” said Running Fox. “I will tell it just as my father told it to me. Our people call that place Laktschellan, which means the-jumping-over-place. Now I will tell you how it got that name. A long time ago a Delaware hunter was chased up on those rocks by some Mohawks. Well, when they saw him up there they began to laugh because they thought he could not get away. Pretty soon they heard him calling down to them. He told them that he was going to jump down into the water. Well, when they heard that they began to laugh some more, because they thought he would surely be killed. Then some of the Mohawks began to climb up the rocks. When the Delaware saw them coming he gave a loud shout and jumped away from the rocks. He made a great noise when he fell into the water, and a white cloud flew high up into the air. Well, the Mohawks began to watch the water. They watched a long time, but he never appeared. Then they thought he was dead. Some of them began to jump into the water to find his body. Well, while they were doing that the Delaware was hiding in the bushes a little way off. He was laughing about how he had fooled the Mohawks. He waited there until the Mohawks got tired and went away. Then he ran to the Delaware camp, and told what he had done. The name of that brave man was Striking Hawk, and he lived a very long time ago.”
“That is a good thing to know about,” declared Spotted Deer. “Whenever I pass that place I will always think about that brave hunter.”
A few moments afterwards the lads entered the hunting grounds of their foes. The real war-journey had actually begun. The thought thrilled them. Still they were serious and thoughtful. They knew that many foes lurked in the vast wilderness which they were about to explore, and they realized the difficulty of avoiding them. Besides the Mohawks there were several other tribes of the great Iroquois nation who wandered into that country to hunt and fish with their tribesmen. These visitors were mostly Oneidas and Onondagas, whose villages were comparatively near the Mohawks, but the fierce Cayugas and the still fiercer Senecas occasionally came from the lakes and mountains far away toward the setting sun. Then there were also the Shawnees, who frequently ventured into the Iroquois country in large numbers. Such an array of enemies might have made the most courageous warrior hesitate about entering that perilous region, and the young Delawares knew that they must keep constantly alert to their danger if they hoped to escape.
The lads continued along the river until near the end of the day, and then they turned deeper into the forest to find a safe hiding place in which to spend the night. They were making their way carefully over a rocky piece of ground covered with blueberry bushes, when they heard a loud buzzing sound close beside them.
“Hi, that is Wischalowe, the Frightener,” cried Running Fox.
They recognized the sound as the angry buzzing of a rattlesnake. It seemed to be in a dense thicket of blueberry bushes, The lads realized that they must approach it with caution, for they knew that its bite was very deadly. Running Fox picked up several stones, and advanced carefully into the thicket. When he came near the sound he stopped and looked for the snake. At last he saw it several bow-lengths ahead of him. It was coiled to strike.
“Hi, Wischalowe, I have found you,” cried Running Fox. “You look very ugly. Yes, you are called ‘The Frightener.’ Well, I am not afraid of you. Your war-cry does not frighten me. I have killed some of your people. Now I am going to kill you. But I am going to give you a chance to fight. Come, let me see how brave you are.”
Running Fox advanced directly toward the angry snake. He parted the bushes carefully with his bow, and walked almost within bow-length. Then he stopped, and continued to taunt Wischalowe. However, the rattlesnake made no attempt to strike, and Running Fox tossed one of the stones within a hand-breadth of it. The snake instantly lowered its head and flattened its body against the ground—it was evidently about to strike. Running Fox advanced a step nearer, and the snake uncoiled two-thirds of its body and struck at him. He saw the ugly open mouth and the deadly fangs as he sprang aside.
“Well, Wischalowe, you are very slow, like an old man,” laughed Running Fox. “Yes, I see that you are very mad about it. You are making a great noise. Perhaps it would frighten the women and children. Is that how you got your name? Well, Wischalowe, this will be your last song. Now I am going to kill you.”
However, as Running Fox threw the rock the snake struck, and he missed it. Then to his surprise the snake partially coiled and struck again. It was an unexpected maneuver, and the reckless young Delaware barely escaped. He struck savagely with his bow, and hit the reptile a stunning blow behind the head. Before it recovered he stooped and crushed it with his war-club. Then he cut the string of bony scales, or rattles, from, the end of its tail.
“Well, that was an easy fight,” laughed Running Fox, as he rejoined Spotted Deer. “Wischalowe tried to frighten us, and now I have killed him.”
“Wisehalowe was foolish,” replied Spotted Deer.
At the end of the day they stopped for the night beside a splendid little woodland spring, in the midst of a wonderful forest of towering hemlocks. The trees were so large and stood so close together that perpetual twilight reigned beneath them. Night came swiftly after sunset in that dense stand of timber, and the lads missed the cheery glow of the little camp-fire, for they believed that it would be foolhardy to run the risk of lighting it. They sat close together in the darkness, therefore, conversing in low, guarded tones and listening anxiously at the slightest sound. However, the great wilderness was unusually still, and they heard only the night wind whispering softly in the tree-tops.
“Schawanachen, the warm wind, is singing the sleep song,” said Running Fox.
“It is a pretty song,” replied Spotted Deer. “Come, we will pile up some of this long grass, and let Schawanachen sing us to sleep.”
They gathered several armfuls of the long feathery ferns that grew in great abundance at that spot, and made couches of them. Then they wrapped themselves in their robes and lay down to sleep.