“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.