“Something is going to happen to us,” said Running Fox.
“Come, we will move back into the lodge,” proposed Spotted Deer.
“No!” cried Running Fox. “We will not be frightened into our den like rabbits. We have put ourselves here. Well, we will stay here and meet this man.”
As the warrior approached them he began to talk fiercely, and point toward the interior of the lodge. The Delawares had little doubt about his meaning, and yet they made no attempt to comply with his commands. A moment later they realized their folly, for the Mohawk raised his bow and shot an arrow directly between them. It was a hint which they thought it well to accept, and they immediately withdrew into the lodge. The Mohawk entered after them, however, and proceeded to bind their hands and feet. Then, to make matters worse, he tied buckskin bandages over their eyes.
“Well, we have got ourselves into this trouble,” Running Fox declared, savagely. “It was foolish to show ourselves to Standing Wolf. Now we will see nothing. If the Chippewas get into the camp we will be killed like Moskimus, the rabbit, when we find him in our traps.”
“It is bad,” agreed Spotted Deer.
They lay a long time listening for the sounds of battle. An unusual hush had fallen upon the camp, and it was evident that the Mohawks also were listening. Then the notes of Gokhos, the owl, sounded close outside the camp. In a few moments they heard the logs being drawn from the opening in the stockade.
“One of the scouts has come into the camp to tell about something,” said Spotted Deer.
“Listen!” cried Running Fox. “The Chippewas have come.”
The melancholy howl of the timber wolf rang through the forest. It rose on four sides of the camp. Then a wild outburst of yells broke forth close to the stockade.