Running Fox

by Elmer Russell Gregor

For some moments Running Fox believed that he would smother in the stifling clouds of steam. Gasping and choking, he was on the point of crying out to be released when he suddenly realized what it would mean. He told himself that such an act would not only disgust Sky Dog, but that it might even arouse the anger of Getanittowit, the Great One. The possibility frightened him. He endured the ordeal with the uncomplaining fortitude of a hardened warrior. The hot, steam-laden atmosphere induced profuse perspiration, and water streamed from every pore in his body. Running Fox grew weak and dizzy. He fought to overcome his weakness, however, for he realized that it was only by thus cleansing himself that he might become fit to hold communion with Getanittowit, the Great One.

While Running Fox was confined in the lodge, Sky Dog sat just outside the entrance, chanting medicine-songs. He ordered Running Fox to repeat them until he could sing them through without a mistake. Then Sky Dog drew aside the bear robes, and commanded Running Fox to come out. The lad staggered out, pale and faint. He presented a pitiful appearance. Sky Dog pointed toward the river, and Running Fox stumbled down the bank and threw himself into the icy water. The shock quickly revived him, and in a few moments he clambered out quite recovered from his experience.

“Now you can go away and rest,” said Sky Dog. “But you must keep thinking about the thing you wish to do. Then, when you feel strong, you must take your robe and a little parched corn, and go away. You must do that before two suns have passed. Go to some high place and stay there three days. During that time you must continue to ask Getanittowit to take pity upon you, and send you a vision. You must also keep singing the medicine-songs. You must not take any weapons with you for that would make Getanittowit very angry. At the end of three days come back and tell me what you have seen. Now I cannot tell you anything more. Go.”

Late the following day Running Fox took his deer-skin robe, and a small bag containing parched corn, and left the village. He made his way toward a high pine-clad mountain directly behind the great Delaware camp. There were few who saw him go away, for Running Fox had carefully guarded his plans. Two, however, his father and old Sky Dog, stood together at the edge of the village and watched him disappear into the shadows of the forest. Then they turned silently away, and walked thoughtfully to their lodges.

When Running Fox finally reached the summit of the mountain the sun had disappeared, and the purple evening shadows were settling in the valleys. Seating himself upon the trunk of a fallen pine the young Delaware looked wonderingly upon the glorious panorama that lay before him. Far below was the Delaware village beside a splendid river which, like a great serpent, glided down from the north between parallel ridges of low wooded hills. Behind those ridges were others, rising one behind the other, like great billows, until they eventually ended in a long, irregular line of ghostly gray peaks far away against the brilliant sunset sky. The entire country was covered with a vast primeval forest which continued in all directions as far as the eye could see. At various intervals isolated woodland lakes flashed from its Bomber green background and rushing mountain cataracts blazed narrow white trails down the hillsides. It was an unspoiled picture of natural grandeur, a land blessed by the bounteous generosity of Getanittowit, who had filled it with blessings for his children. The waters teemed with fish, the forests swarmed with game, and the air was perfumed with the fragrance of the pines. Running Fox looked upon it with pride and affection, for it was the home of the great Lenape nation, his people, the Delawares.

Then the lad turned his eyes toward the north, and his face grew stern and threatening. He realized that he was looking upon the hunting grounds of his enemies, the fierce and warlike Mohawks. Somewhere in the great silent wilderness that stretched for unknown leagues beyond the headwaters of the river was the Mohawk village in which lived the famous war-chief, Standing Wolf. Running Fox knew that to learn the secret which would enable his people to triumph over their enemies he must find and enter the hostile camp. For the first time he began to understand the difficulty and peril of his task. It seemed like a foolhardy undertaking for an untried lad of sixteen winters. Running Fox thought of the experienced warriors who had sacrificed their lives in the attempt. For a moment or so it weakened his confidence. He even wondered whether he might not have chosen a feat beyond his ability. The idea angered him. He told himself that no task was too great for the son of Black Panther.

Running Fox continued his reveries until darkness closed about the mountain-top. Then, as the fires began to twinkle down in the Delaware camp, he rose and turned his face toward the sky. He stood some moments gazing at the starry heavens. Then he suddenly began his appeal to Getanittowit, the Great One.

Late in the night Running Fox was interrupted by the sound of something moving stealthily through the forest. He was instantly alert, for he recalled that more than one daring Iroquois scout had been detected spying upon the Delaware camp from the summit of that very mountain. For a moment Running Fox longed for his weapons. The next instant he banished the thought for fear of angering Getanittowit. He believed that as long as he sang the sacred medicine-songs, and repeated the words which old Sky Dog had taught him, he would be safe from all danger. Thus assured, he listened without fear to the mysterious sounds in the darkness. At last a startled snort told him that it was only Achtu, the deer. A few moments later he heard it dashing away through the woods.

Dawn found the devout lad, heavy-eyed and weary, still gazing into the sky and calling upon Getanittowit to help him. “O Getanittowit, take pity on me and help me to do what I have set out to do. O Getanittowit, send me a vision. O Getanittowit, I have sung the sacred medicine-songs many times to make you glad. O Getanittowit, take pity on me and help me.” Running Fox continued to repeat the earnest appeal and sing the sacred songs throughout the day. With the falling of darkness, however, the exhausted lad ceased his exertions, and soon afterward fell into a heavy slumber.

The following day Running Fox hovered on the verge of collapse. The scant daily ration of parched corn was insufficient to maintain his strength, and the long, trying ordeal began to sap his vitality. He had stationed himself on a bare granite ledge which formed the very peak of the mountain. There, in the full glare of the scorching summer sun, he stood and offered his prayers to Getanittowit. At times his head reeled and his legs trembled beneath him, but when that happened he staggered to the shade of the forest, and refreshed himself at an icy spring which bubbled forth between the roots of a massive hemlock. Then he toiled painfully up to the ledge, and continued the sacred ceremony which he felt confident would eventually win him the favor of Getanittowit.