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.
“Perhaps it would be a good thing for one of us to watch,” suggested Running Fox.
“No, I do not believe we are in any danger here,” said Spotted Deer. “We have not seen or heard anything to trouble us.”
“That is true,” agreed Running Fox. “Well, we will not do anything about it.”
They had not been long asleep when Running Fox awakened with a feeling that all was not well. He raised himself cautiously upon his elbow, and spent many moments looking and listening for signs of danger. Spotted Deer was slumbering soundly, and Running Fox determined not to awaken him unless he discovered something to verify his uneasiness.
“This is a strange thing,” Running Fox whispered to himself. “I do not see anything, and I do not hear anything, but I feel something wrong. I believe we are in some kind of danger. Well, I will watch.”
For a long time, however, he found no reason for his suspicions. Still the peculiar premonition of danger persisted. It troubled him. He believed it was a warning from Getanittowit, and yet he did not know how to interpret it. Then he thought he heard something moving through the ferns. He held his breath to listen, but the silence was unbroken. At last, convinced that his fears were groundless, Running Fox again lay down to sleep. He had barely closed his eyes, however, when he was roused by the same stealthy sound in the ferns.
“Now I know that something is wrong,” Running Fox told himself.
As he sat up and stared anxiously into the night he again heard the gentle rustling of the ferns. For a moment he wondered if it might not be the wind. All was still, however, and even the murmurs in the tree-tops had died away. Running Fox felt that he was being watched. A few moments later his suspicions were verified, as a pair of glowing eyes shone from the darkness. Aware that they were threatened by some savage prowler of the wilderness, Running Fox leaned over and touched Spotted Deer.
“Do not make any noise,” cautioned Running Fox, as Spotted Deer awakened.
“What has happened?” Spotted Deer inquired, anxiously.
“I do not know what it is, but something is watching us,” declared Running Fox. “Yes, I heard it, and I saw its eyes.”
“Perhaps the wolves have followed us,” whispered Spotted Deer.
“No, it is something different,” replied Running Fox. “Listen.”
They heard something circling softly about them through the ferns. Then they caught the momentary flash of a pair of eyes. The next instant they vanished, and a twig snapped somewhere within bow-shot.
“I believe it is Timmeu, the wolf,” declared Spotted Deer. “Perhaps he has come back to fight us.”
“No, it is not Timmeu,” replied Running Fox. “The eyes are different, and this thing moves slower.”
They heard a low growl, like that of an angry dog. Then they again saw the weird shining eyes watching them.
“Perhaps some Evil Spirit lives in this place,” Spotted Deer suggested, uneasily.
“No, I do not believe it,” Running Fox assured him. “I believe it is Quenischquney, the panther. Yes, it is the sound I heard in my dream. Now I will tell you what to do. I will shoot my arrow. Then if Quenisehquney jumps in to fight you must send your arrow into him. By that time I will be ready with another arrow.”
“I am ready,” said Spotted Deer. “See, there are his eyes. He sounds mad.”
Running Fox discharged his arrow. They heard it strike, and then a terrifying scream rang through the night. A moment later a long dark form crouched before them. They heard the tail swishing rapidly among the ferns, and read a warning in the flashing eyes.
“Do something!” cried Running Fox, as he prepared another arrow.
Spotted Deer had hesitated an instant too long, and as he released his bow-string the panther sprang. It missed him by less than a bow-length, and disappeared into the night. They heard it coughing and snarling, and thrashing about in the ferns. Then it suddenly became quiet.
“It is dead,” said Spotted Deer.
“Perhaps,” replied Running Fox. “Quenischquney is very cute, we must be careful.”
They watched anxiously, but the eyes failed to appear. Then, as the silence continued, Running Fox began to grow uneasy. He feared that the panther might have sneaked away, and the possibility made him reckless.
“I do not like this,” he told Spotted Deer. “Perhaps, as you say, Quenischquney is dead. But perhaps he has sneaked away. That would be very bad. I must follow him and kill him. Yes, I must take his claws, and wear them as the mysterious Medicine Creatures told me to do. If I do not obey them something bad may happen to us. Now I am going over there to find out if Quenischquney is dead.”
“That is a very dangerous thing to do,” protested Spotted Deer.
“Well, I cannot help it,” replied Running Fox. “I must not let Quenischquney get away.”
“I will go with you,” proposed Spotted Deer.
They waited some moments, watching and listening for a clue to the whereabouts of the wounded panther. Then, as the baffling silence continued, they advanced cautiously toward the place where they had last seen the glare of its eyes. They went forward very slowly, about a bow-length apart. It was very dark, and they realized that they must depend more upon their ears than their eyes to warn them of danger. After every third or fourth stride, therefore, they stopped to listen, while they peered anxiously on all sides of them for a tell-tale flash of those ugly green eyes. However, they neither heard or saw anything of the animal they sought.
“I believe that fierce Quenischquney is dead,” declared Spotted Deer.
“We must not be too sure,” Running Fox warned him.
He had barely finished speaking when they heard a warning growl directly ahead of them. They stopped and watched for a chance to shoot their arrows. The growling continued, and they heard the ferns rustling, but they were unable to locate the panther. They knew it was close to them, but for some reason they were unable to discover its eyes. For a moment they were puzzled. Then Running Fox guessed the truth.
“I know how it is,” he whispered, excitedly. “Quenischquney is crouching down in the high grass. I believe he is getting ready to jump.”
“Shall I send an arrow over there where we hear him?” asked Spotted Deer.
Quenischquney himself answered the question, for at that very instant he made his spring, and bore Spotted Deer to the ground. Running Fox saw a long black shadow pass before him, heard a short angry snarl, and then the quick startled voice of Spotted Deer. For an instant the suddenness of the attack bewildered him. He hesitated a moment to recover his wits, and then as Spotted Deer called to him he sprang to his assistance.
“O Running Fox! Running Fox!” screamed Spotted Deer.
“Use your knife!” cried Running Fox.
The next instant he was upon the panther. He plunged his flint knife deep behind the shoulder.
Then, as the infuriated beast turned upon him, he drove an arrow into its body. Quenischquney leaped, but crashed to the ground within a bow-length. For some moments he thrashed wildly about in the ferns, coughing and snarling furiously. Then he became still. The lads approached cautiously, and saw him lying quietly upon his side. Running Fox drove another arrow into him, but he failed to move. Then they went up to him, and saw that he was dead.
“Did Quenischquney do much harm to you?” Running Fox asked Spotted Deer. “Come over here and let me look at you.”
“No, Quenischquney did not harm me,” Spotted Deer replied, bravely. “I felt his claws, but I stuck my knife into his throat, and he could not bite me. Yes, I am bloody, but most of it came from Quenischquney. It is a good thing you were with me. If I had been alone I might have been killed.”
Running Fox saw that Spotted Deer had escaped without serious injury. He had a number of painful gashes on his arms and the upper part of his body, but Running Fox hurried him to the spring and soon stopped the bleeding by soaking small pieces of sphagnum moss in the cold water and inserting it in the wounds.
“Well, you will have some marks on your body to tell about when we get back to our people,” laughed Running Fox.
“I will tell them how you killed Quenischquney,” replied Spotted Deer.
As Spotted Deer declared that he felt little pain from his injuries, they returned to the dead panther and cut off the claws. Then they sang medicine-songs, and danced about the body of Quenischquney until well along toward the middle of the night.
“Now we will stop,” Running Fox said, finally, “It will soon be light. Come, we will go back and lie down again.”
“Yes, we can sleep easy, fierce Quenischquney will not trouble us now,” replied Spotted Deer.