CHAPTER XIII—SURPRISED
Shortly after dark the impatient young Delawares set out on their perilous search for the Mohawk camp. When they reached the base of the ridge they stopped to listen. Then, as they heard nothing to arouse their suspicions, they climbed carefully up the steep brushy slope. They were almost at the top when Running Fox thought he heard something moving through the bushes. They immediately dropped and lay close to the ground. They waited a long time, but nothing appeared. At last they decided that they had been needlessly alarmed, and they rose and continued up the ridge.
Once on top the Delawares’ first thought was to look for the glow of the Mohawk fires. When they failed to find them they began to lose hope. It was evident that the Mohawk camp was not where they had expected to find it.
“I do not see what I expected to find—it is bad,” whispered Spotted Deer.
Running Fox made no reply. He appeared to be listening.
“That smoke must have been another signal,” said Spotted Deer.
Running Fox still continued silent. He sat with his bow across his knees, staring moodily into the night. Having been unable to draw him into conversation, Spotted Deer, too, subsided into silence and waited patiently for Running Fox to announce a plan of action.
They sat there for a long time, and then they were suddenly roused by the sound of a dog barking somewhere near the spot where they had looked for the Mohawk camp. Running Fox instantly became alert. Cautioning Spotted Deer to silence, he listened eagerly. In a few moments the barking changed to sharp cries of pain, and it was evident that the animal had been cowed into silence. Then for a long time all was still.
“Now I know what I came here to find out,” said Running Fox. “My ears have told me what my eyes could not see. Spotted Deer, the great Mohawk camp is down there where we heard that dog.”
“Where are the fires?” demanded Spotted Deer.
“Perhaps there are no fires,” replied Running Fox. “Perhaps they are hidden by the trees. Perhaps the camp is closed in by high stakes. I do not know how it comes that we cannot see the fires, but I believe the camp is there.”
“Then we will go down there and find it,” Spotted Deer proposed, impulsively.
“No, I have a different plan,” Running Fox told him. “I am going down there alone. I will look around. Then I will come back and tell you about it. You must wait here.”
“Running Fox, that is not a good thing to do,” protested Spotted Deer. “I must go with you. Perhaps you will get into a fight down there. Yes, I must be there to help you.”
“Spotted Deer, I am the leader,” Running Fox reminded him. “I am doing this thing because it is the best way to go about it. If we both go down there and get caught then there will be no chance to get away. If I go down there alone and get caught then you must get me out of it. I will not go into the camp without you, but I must go and look around. It is the only way to do. I will not talk any more about it.”
“Running Fox, you say that you are the leader, it is true,” replied Spotted Deer. “Yes, I will do what you tell me to do. I believe it is the best way.”
“That is good,” said Running Fox. “Now I will tell you something different. If anything had happens to me down there I will make the call of Quenischquney, the panther. If you hear that then you must come down there and do what you can. But perhaps you will get into danger. Then you must make the call of Quenisehquney. Then I will come to help you. Now I am going away.”
“I will keep singing the sacred songs to help you,” said Spotted Deer.
“Yes, that will be a good thing to do,” agreed Running Fox.
A moment later he disappeared into the night. Running Fox moved down the ridge with great caution, for he felt quite sure that Mohawk sentinels were somewhere within bow-shot of him. He stopped many times to listen, but heard nothing to alarm him. When he reached the bottom of the ridge he turned directly toward the place where he had heard the dog barking. As he advanced he kept a sharp watch for the warning glow of the Mohawk fires. The forest was very dense, however, and as he believed that the Mohawk village might be walled about by a log stockade he had little hope of discovering the fires. Then he thought of a better plan. Moistening one of his fingers, he raised it above his head and learned that what little wind there was came from the north. As he was traveling almost due west, he made a wide detour to get the wind in his face. Soon afterward he saw the value of the wily maneuver, when the unmistakable odor of smoke was borne to his nostrils. It filled him with joy, for he realized that at last he had found an easy trail to the hostile camp.
Running Fox followed the tell-tale smoke scent with the eager persistence of a famished wolf. As long as the breeze held steady he hurried along with little fear of going astray. However, when the wind weakened, or shifted, his task became more difficult. Under those conditions he invariably lost the trail, and was compelled to circle about until he found it. Thus he felt his way toward his goal, until at last he was halted by the familiar sounds from the camp itself. He stopped and raised his eyes to Getanittowit.
“O Getanittowit, I have come near to the camp of my enemies, the proud and boastful Mohawks,” whispered Running Fox. “O Getanittowit, I am in great danger. O Getanittowit, make me as sharp as Woakus, the fox, and as brave as Machque, the bear. O Getanittowit, take pity on me and help me.”
Having made this earnest appeal to Getanittowit, the Great One, the devout young Delaware resumed his daring advance toward the Mohawk camp. As he neared it the sounds increased, and he knew that the village contained many people, The thought made him more cautious, and he stopped to reconnoiter. Running Fox felt sure that he was within a few bow-shots of the village, and yet he could see no trace of it. He scouted cautiously through the woods looking for it, but although the sounds warned him that the camp was dangerously close at hand the night effectually hid it from his sight.
“This comes of not following the advice of Gokhus, the Medicine Owl,” the superstitious young Delaware told himself. “Gokhus is the only one who can see through the dark. Yes, if I had the skin of the great white Medicine Owl I believe I would be able to see this camp.”
Nevertheless he determined to continue looking for the Mohawk village. He knew that to come within sight of the camp he must run the risk of capture and death, but he felt little fear. He believed that Getanittowit would help him, and the assurance gave him courage. He advanced, therefore, with every faculty keenly alert, determined to actually see the hostile camp before he thought of turning back.
Running Fox was moving slowly through the woods when he suddenly found himself on the edge of a large clearing. Corn and squashes were growing there, and the Delaware instantly realized that he had found the Mohawk camp. The thought set his heart beating wildly. Then he heard a number of persons chanting a song, and looking toward the sound he saw a long high, shadow stretching across one side of the clearing. He knew at once that it was a log stockade enclosing the camp. He saw a pale yellow glow above it, and he believed it came from the Mohawk fires.
Having finally got within arrow-range of his goal, Running Fox shrank back into the shadows of the forest, and looked upon the great Mohawk camp with awe. For a moment or so it frightened him, and he found himself trembling with nervousness. It looked like a huge trap from which it would be hard to escape. The thought weakened his confidence. He heard a dog barking, and he wondered if it had caught his scent. He raised a moistened finger into the air to test the wind. It was in his favor, and he felt much relieved. A few moments afterward a small square of light appeared in the long black wall. Something black flashed across it, and then the light vanished into the night. Running Fox was perplexed. He wondered if it had been a signal of some sort. Perhaps he had been discovered. The possibility brought sweat to his brow. For an instant he thought of retreating. However, the very suggestion filled him with shame. He asked himself if Running Fox, the son of the great war-chief, Black Panther, were a coward.
“No, I will not run away,” he whispered, savagely. “I will stay here, and see what is going to happen to me.”
Then, as he continued to watch the grim black outline of the stockade, the square of light again appeared, and this time it was some moments before it vanished. In the meantime a number of dark objects had flashed across it. Running Fox was unable to explain it. It seemed as if it must be a signal to some one outside of the village. Still he could not understand how it was done. He knew that there was no fire outside of the stockade, else he would have seen the glare. Then where did the light come from, and what made it? For a long time Running Fox was unable to guess. At last, however, the truth flashed across his mind.
“Hi, now I know about it,” he told himself.
“There is a hole in that log wall. Yes, some one pulled something away, and made it open. Then some one moved something across that place. Then some one closed it up again, and made it dark. Pretty soon some one opened it again. Then some one moved something across that place many times. Perhaps it was a signal.”
Having guessed that much, it was only a few moments until the sharp-witted young scout learned the full truth. He realized that the opening must have been an entrance or door into the village, and that the mysterious black objects which had momentarily shut out the light were people either entering or leaving the camp. That, however, was the only point about which he had any doubt. He would have given much to know whether the people who had passed through the opening were warriors returning from the war-trail, or scouts going out to look for the enemy. Then, as a great commotion suddenly broke out in the camp, Running Fox believed that the answer had been given by the Mohawks themselves.
“Yes, I believe some warriors have come back from the fight with the Shawnees,” said Running Fox.
Each moment the noise increased, and it was evident that a celebration of some sort was in progress. Then the glow above the stockade brightened, and Running Fox believed that the fires were being rekindled in preparation for some important ceremony. The thought pleased him, for he believed that with the Mohawks absorbed in celebrating a victory, it would be easier to approach the village. Having discovered the entrance into the camp, the reckless lad resolved to have at least one peep at his foes before he returned to Spotted Deer.
Running Fox waited until the noise indicated that the celebration was well in progress, and then he moved toward the camp. He had carefully noted the location of the opening in the stockade, but he feared to approach it, for he knew that at any moment he might encounter some one leaving the village. He turned toward the end of the stockade, therefore, and was almost within leaping distance of the camp when he was halted by a challenge directly behind him. Acting upon the impulse of the moment, Running Fox stopped for an instant, and mumbled an unintelligible reply. Then, as the night hid the person who had hailed him, he tried to hurry away. He planned to dodge around the end of the stockade and dash into the woods. The ruse failed, however, for the suspicious Mohawk followed him. Aware that further attempts to deceive would be useless, Running Fox ran off at great speed. The Mohawk immediately raced after him, yelling at the top of his voice.
As Running Fox dodged around the end of the stockade he crashed into two Mohawks who were running up at the call of their tribesman. The surprise was mutual, and all three fell to the ground. A moment afterward the young Delaware found himself lying helplessly upon his back with two stalwart warriors holding him down. As he attempted to shout a warning to Spotted Deer one of the Mohawks seized him by the throat and began to choke him unmercifully. However, Running Fox had no idea of surrendering. He fought with the fury of a wildcat until one of his foes struck him a stunning blow on the head with a war-club.
When the lad regained his senses some moments later he found himself surrounded by a number of Mohawk warriors. His arms had been tightly bound behind him, and a heavy piece of buckskin had been tied over his mouth. As Running Fox opened his eyes, the warrior who had choked him kneeled and glared fiercely into his face. Then he seized him roughly by the shoulder, and motioned for him to rise. As the Delaware obeyed the Mohawks crowded excitedly about him, peering eagerly into his face, and threatening him with their weapons. Running Fox showed no fear, however, and in a few moments they ceased tormenting him and led him into the camp.
The Mohawk village was lighted by several large fires, and Running Fox saw a great many people gathered in the center of the camp. They were mostly women and children, with a small company of old men and guards who had been left behind to protect the village when the warriors had rushed out at the cry of alarm. As Running Fox was led into the firelight the Mohawks quickly recognized him as a Delaware, and immediately began to taunt and abuse him. The old women and the boys were particularly vicious, and several of the latter ran up and began to beat him with sticks. The Delaware’s eyes flashed threateningly, but he knew better than to resist for he realized that it would only expose him to still harsher treatment from his tormentors.
When Running Fox and his guards reached the center of the village they were beset by a great throng of people who seemed intent upon reaching the prisoner. They appeared so hostile that the Delaware feared they intended to kill him there and then. They surged wildly about him shouting their war-cries, and striking at him over the shoulders of his guards. The latter were struggling valiantly to protect him, but it looked as if they would be overpowered at any moment. At the height of the tumult, however, Running Fox saw several warriors hurrying forward from the other end of the camp. As they approached, the foremost warrior called out, and at the sound of his voice the Mohawks immediately fell back. It was evident that the warrior was a man of great authority, and Running Fox wondered if it could be Standing Wolf, the famous Mohawk war-chief.
A few moments afterward the Mohawk stood before him. He was a tall, broad-shouldered man of middle age, with a cruel face and restless black eyes. For a moment Running Fox felt afraid of him. Then, as the Mohawk looked searchingly into his face, the lad suddenly remembered that he must uphold the honor of his tribe. He raised his head and met the challenge unflinchingly. They gazed steadily at each other for several moments, and the vast assemblage of Mohawks watched them in silence. Then the Mohawk laughed scornfully, and turned to his people. He addressed them in a few sharp sentences, and his words were received with what seemed to be expressions of approval. At any rate the Mohawks made no further demonstrations against the prisoner, and Running Fox wondered whether the warrior had spoken in his behalf. It seemed too much to expect, however, and the young Delaware feared that his relief was only the prelude to a more trying ordeal yet in store for him. Then he saw the man whom he took to be Standing Wolf, talking to the three warriors whom Running Fox had encountered outside of the camp. A moment later one of them approached him, and untied the buckskin bandage which had been placed over his mouth. For an instant Running Fox was tempted to shout a warning to Spotted Deer. Upon second thought, however, he abandoned the idea. He doubted that Spotted Deer would hear it, and besides, he believed it would be foolish to acquaint the Mohawks with the fact that he had a companion. In the meantime the Mohawk leader had again approached him. Running Fox was greatly astounded to hear him speak in the Delaware dialect.
“Do the boastful Delawares send boys to fight their enemies?” he inquired, sarcastically.
Running Fox made no reply.
“Well, do Delaware children remain silent when they are spoken to?” the Mohawk demanded, angrily. “I do not like that. When Standing Wolf speaks he must be answered. Come, speak fast or I will teach you how to obey.”
“I will answer you,” Running Fox said, angrily. “Standing Wolf, you have asked me something. Well, I will tell you what you wish to know. My people keep their men to fight the brave Shawnees. My people send their boys to kill the Mohawks.”
It was a reckless speech, and Running Fox immediately realized that he had sealed his doom as he looked into the angry eyes of Standing Wolf. For a moment the great Mohawk war-chief looked upon him in unconcealed amazement. Then he mumbled something, and advanced threateningly. Running Fox showed no signs of weakening, however, and Standing Wolf struck him a stinging blow across the mouth. It was the signal for a wild outbreak from the onlookers, for they realized that their famous war-chief had been insulted by a mere lad. The thought drove them into a frenzy, and only the prompt interference of Standing Wolf himself saved the Delaware from instant torture and death. When he had quieted the people, the Mohawk chief called several trusted warriors to lead Running Fox away.
The unhappy lad was taken to a square bark lodge or shack. It contained a single room or compartment, and appeared dark and uninhabited. Once inside the building, the Mohawks threw Running Fox to the ground and bound his feet, which until that moment had been free. Then they left him.
The two guards had barely gone from hearing when Running Fox heard something stirring over in a corner of the lodge. However, darkness made it impossible to tell what it was. He listened anxiously, and finally thought he heard some one chanting a medicine-song. It was low and indistinct, but still there was something about it that sounded familiar. A few moments later Running Fox identified it as one of the songs which he had learned from old Sky Dog, the Delaware medicine-man. Then the startling truth suddenly confronted him.
“Spotted Deer!” Running Fox cried in a tense whisper.
“Yes, Running Fox, I am here,” replied Spotted Deer. “This is very bad. Now I know that there is no chance for us.”