“We must go back to the place we came from,” whispered Running Fox. “The Mohawks are all around us. We cannot get away.”
“We will hide until they go away,” said Spotted Deer.
They began a slow, cautious retreat toward the middle of the swamp. They were stopped many times by mysterious sounds which often seemed within bow-length of them, but each time the danger passed, and they finally gained the depths of the swamp in safety. Then they concealed themselves in the dense top of a fallen hemlock, and determined to stay there until daylight.
“Now we must find a better place,” said Running Fox, as the soft gray light of dawn penetrated their hiding place. “Pretty soon the Mohawks will come here to look for us. Then we must hide as close as Wisawanik, the squirrel.”
“This is a good place,” replied Spotted Deer. “If we keep still it will be hard to see us in here.”
“No, I do not like this place,” declared Running Fox. “The Mohawks will be sure to look into this tree-top. We must hide where they will not expect to find us.”
“Where shall we go?” asked Spotted Deer.
“Come, I will find a place,” Running Fox assured him.
Running Fox led the way to a great black spruce with low sweeping branches. Then, as he began to climb, he asked Spotted Deer to remain upon the ground. When Running Fox finally settled himself well up toward the top of the tree, he called down to Spotted Deer and asked if he could see him.
“No, I do not see anything of you,” replied Spotted Deer, after he had walked carefully about the tree.