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.