Spotted Deer

Spotted Deer was returning to the Delaware village from a hunting expedition. He was in high spirits for he had been most successful. His canoe contained the carcass of a fat young buck, a brace of geese and several grouse. Spotted Deer sang softly to himself. It was a simple song of thanks to Getanittowit, the Great One.
Listen, Getanittowit, I am singing about you. Getanittowit has filled my canoe with meat. Getanittowit has made me a great hunter. O Getanittowit, I feel good about it.
It was a glorious day in early autumn. The soft balmy air was perfumed with the invigorating fragrance of the pines. The water sparkled in the sunshine. A smoky blue haze hung between the hills. The forest blazed with color. Spotted Deer looked about him with delight. A red-tail hawk circled slowly above his head. A woodpecker drummed its challenge upon a dead pine. Spotted Deer smiled at the sound as he recalled an occasion when his friend Running Fox had used it as a signal to fool his foes. Lost in reverie, Spotted Deer ceased paddling to watch the great black and white woodpecker hammering noisily on a bleached limb of the pine. Having found no evidence of foes in the Delaware hunting grounds, the young warrior felt secure.
Hi, Papaches, you are making a big noise up there, he laughed, as he shook his bow at the bird.
The next moment he grew silent and alert. The call of Quiquingus, the loon, sounded somewhere behind him. Spotted Deer looked anxiously up the river. There was something about the call which made him suspicious. He searched the water with great care, but saw nothing of the loon. He became uneasy. Several disturbing questions rose in his mind. Was the call false? Was it a signal from his foes? Had he been discovered?
The latter possibility was alarming as he was more than a day's journey from the Delaware camp. Spotted Deer was undecided as to just what he should do. Many moments passed while he watched anxiously for the loon. The woodpecker had flown. The forest was silent. Spotted Deer hoped that the cry would be repeated. When he failed to hear it, his suspicions grew stronger. He wondered if some sharp-eyed scout were watching from the edge of the forest. The thought made him cautious. He paddled into the center of the river, where he was a long bow-shot from either shore. Then for a long time he waited and watched. However, as he neither saw nor heard anything further of the loon, he finally determined to continue on his way.