“We will not talk any more about it,” said Running Fox.
They listened anxiously, and in a few moments they heard the call of Gokhos again echoing through the forest. It seemed to come from farther up the river. The notes sounded perfectly natural, but Running Fox was suspicious.
“I believe it is Gokhos,” said Spotted Deer.
“Perhaps,” replied Running Fox.
A short time afterward the cry was repeated nearer at hand, and Running Fox looked at Spotted Deer and smiled.
“Perhaps Gokhos is coming to talk with you,” he said. “I believe it will be better to move away.”
As they retreated cautiously into the night, the weird, mocking cry again came to them through the darkness. Running Fox strained his ears to find a flaw in it, but it sounded genuine. Still he was distrustful.
“Well, perhaps it is only Gokhos,” he told Spotted Deer, “I do not hear anything wrong with it, but I do not feel right about it. We have seen the Mohawks. They were painted for war. We are in their country. We must not be too bold.”
As he finished speaking they were surprised to hear Gokhos calling from somewhere down the river. For a moment it allayed their suspicions, for they realized that only Gokhos himself could have moved so rapidly. Then they heard the other cry farther to the northward, and their fears were strengthened.
“Now I believe it is the Mohawks calling one another,” declared Running Fox. “We will stay here, and watch until it gets light.”