Running Fox

by Elmer Russell Gregor

“I will watch sharp,” Spotted Deer assured him.

Spotted Deer did not wait long after darkness fell. He believed that his chances for success would be better if he made his attempt during the early part of the night. He felt quite sure that at that time the Mohawks would still be intent upon watching, but he feared that if he waited until later they might become discouraged and decide to abandon their vigil. Running Fox held the same opinion.

“Now I am going,” Spotted Deer whispered, when he was ready. “It may take me a long time, but you must creep down close to the water and keep listening. If I get the canoe I will come back near this spot. When I get near the land I will slap the water like Amoch, the beaver. When you hear that you must throw a little stone into the water. It will make a splash like Maschilamek, the trout, and the Mohawks will think nothing of it. But I will know what it means. Now I am going.”

“Go. I will watch for you,” said Running Fox.

A moment later Spotted Deer disappeared into the dark as silently as a shadow. He turned directly toward the river, and when he came in sight of the water he stopped to listen. Clouds filled the sky, and the night was black and still. Spotted Deer raised his face toward the heavens, and asked Getanittowit to aid him in his task. Then he advanced to the edge of the water. For a moment or so he stood there looking and listening. Then he waded carefully from the shore.

The river was narrow and still at that spot, and Spotted Deer crossed it without difficulty. As he approached the shore he ceased swimming, and turned upon his back. He floated a long time, listening for a warning of danger. Then as he heard nothing to arouse his suspicions he swam to the shore.

It took only a few moments to wade from the water, and cross the narrow beach between the river and the stand of willows in which the Mohawk had concealed the canoe. Spotted Deer entered the cover with great caution, for he feared an ambush. His fears proved groundless, however, and he reached the canoe in safety. Then he hesitated. The most perilous part of his task was still before him, and he was somewhat in doubt as to just how to proceed. He doubted his ability to carry the canoe to the water, and still he realized that if he attempted to drag it through the dense tangle of bushes he might make sufficient noise to warn the Mohawk. Still there seemed to be only those two alternatives, and he knew that every moment he delayed he increased his peril. He lifted the how of the canoe to the level of his knees, and saw at once that it would be almost impossible to get it to his shoulders. The question was decided, therefore he would be compelled to drag it.

Holding his bow and arrows in one hand, Spotted Deer started to draw the canoe from the willows. It was not an easy task, and the young Delaware trembled at the noise he made. Each moment he expected to find the Mohawk at his throat. Once out of the willows, however, he made better progress. He had almost reached the water when he heard a twig snap at the edge of the woods. Believing that he had been discovered, he threw off his caution, and dragged the canoe toward the water with no attempt to conceal the noise. As he launched it and clambered in over the side, he heard the Mohawk running toward the river. Several strong paddle strokes carried him from the shore, and then the night hid him from his foe.

As Spotted Deer paddled frantically toward the opposite shore of the river, he heard the Mohawk yelling furiously to warn his friends. The anxious lad realized that once they reached the river it might be impossible to rescue Running Fox. The thought drove him to still greater exertions. As yet the two scouts had failed to answer the frantic appeals of their tribesman. Then, when Spotted Deer was two-thirds of the way across, he heard them signaling with the notes of the owl. Still they seemed to be some distance back from the water, and he had hopes of picking up Running Fox before they could reach the river.

Once within bow-shot of the shore, Spotted Deer ceased paddling and struck the water a resounding whack with the blade of his paddle. Then he listened anxiously for the splash of a stone. Several moments passed, and the silence remained unbroken. Spotted Deer again struck the water with his paddle. Still there was no answer. Spotted Deer suddenly grew weak with fear. He believed that something had happened to Running Fox. The possibility staggered him. He was unable to rally his wits. Then he heard the Mohawk on the opposite side of the river imitating the scream of Nianque, the lynx. A moment afterward the signal was answered from the edge of the woods, a bow-shot farther down the river. The next instant a stone struck the water within a bow-length of the canoe.