CHAPTER VIII—A NARROW ESCAPE
At daylight the lads continued along the ridge upon which they had spent the night, until they found a spot which offered them a long, unobstructed view of the river. Then they settled themselves to watch for their foes. The mysterious owl calls on the previous night had convinced them that some of the Mohawks were still down the river, and they hoped before long to see them. They waited patiently until half of the day had passed, but no one appeared.
“Perhaps they are moving through the woods on foot,” suggested Spotted Deer.
“Perhaps,” replied Running Fox. “We have watched a long time, but we have not seen any one. I believe the Mohawks have passed some other way. Come, we will go ahead.”
They advanced through the forest with great caution, for they knew that they might come face to face with their foes at any moment. Watchful, and alert to their peril, therefore, the lads took every precaution. Nothing escaped their notice. They stopped suspiciously each time the wind stirred the leaves; they strained their ears to catch a warning in the most familiar sound. The fact that the Mohawk canoemen were painted for war suggested the possibility of a large war-party somewhere near at hand. The Delawares knew that under those circumstances many sharp-eyed scouts were roaming through the woods on all sides of them.
Toward the end of the day the lads heard a wild turkey calling. It seemed to be somewhere on a ridge to the eastward, and they stopped to listen. It was a common sound in the woods about the Delaware camp, and under other circumstances they would have given little attention to it. However, with the owl calls fresh in their minds, the Delawares immediately became suspicious. Running Fox placed his finger across his lips, and looked warningly at Spotted Deer.
“I will keep as still as Achpoques, the wood mouse,” laughed Spotted Deer, as he recalled his blunder with the owl calls.
They listened some time before the call was repeated, and then they were unable to discover anything suspicious about it. Nevertheless they determined to wait until they heard it again. The next time, however, Running Fox thought he detected an unfamiliar note. He had hunted wild turkeys since he was old enough to pull a bowstring, and he was an expert at imitating their call.
“I do not like that,” he told Spotted Deer. “No, I do not believe it is Gulukochsun.”
“Well, we will listen again,” said Spotted Deer. “I did not hear anything wrong about it.”