Running Fox was running toward the stockade when he suddenly encountered some one walking through the camp. They were face to face before either of them realized it, and there was little chance of avoiding recognition. Running Fox tried to withdraw into the night, but the Mohawk jumped forward and peered intently into his face. He identified him at once. Running Fox tried to use his bow, but the Mohawk was too close. He seized the Delaware, and shouted to rouse the camp. He was a large, powerful man, but Running Fox was too quick for him. He jabbed an arrow directly into his face, and as the Mohawk shrank back the lad wrenched himself free and darted toward his goal.
“Jump up there!” shouted Running Fox, when he reached Spotted Deer.
They climbed nimbly to the top of the log barricade that closed the entrance to the village, and then Running Fox clambered upon the shoulders of Spotted Deer. The camp was in a wild turmoil, and they knew it was only a question of moments before the Mohawks would be upon them. Running Fox found that he was almost a bow-length from the top of the stockade. The distance was greater than he had expected to find it, and for a moment he lost hope. Then, as he realized what it would mean to fail, he sprang frantically upward. His fingers closed about the tops of the logs, and he struggled furiously to hold fast. For a moment or so it seemed as if he must slip back. Then he found a toe-hold against one of the logs, and improved his grip on the top of the stockade. The next moment he had drawn himself to the top.
“The Mohawks are here, jump down and save yourself,” cried Spotted Deer.
Running Fox took no heed of the warning. Instead he lay across the top of the stockade, and reached down to rescue Spotted Deer.
“Jump up, I will help you!” he shouted.
A moment later they had clasped hands, and Spotted Deer was struggling desperately to reach the top of the stockade. Arrows were already whizzing past them, but as yet the darkness had saved them from harm. Once Spotted Deer had gained the top of the stockade in safety, they turned about and dropped to the ground on the outside of the camp. They heard the Mohawks struggling frantically with the logs that closed the doorway.
“Come, we must ran fast!” cried Running Fox, as he dashed for the woods.
“I will follow you,” replied Spotted Deer.
Then they heard a wild babel of sounds behind them, and they knew that the Mohawks were rushing from the camp. Above the tumult sounded the fierce cry of Nianque, the lynx, the danger signal of the Mohawks. It seemed to come from the top of the stockade, and the Delawares believed that the Mohawks were sending a warning to the warriors who had left the camp earlier in the day.