"What do you make of it?" Crooked Foot asked Spotted Deer.
"I believe they are waiting until it gets dark," said Spotted Deer.
They watched uneasily as the light slowly faded from the swamp. The approach of darkness filled them with dread. The night threatened them with disaster. They wondered if they would live to see the dawn. Vague, alarming doubts entered their minds. They became discouraged and depressed. Then they roused themselves with the thought that their people were rushing to their assistance. It gave them hope, and strengthened their courage. They believed that the Delawares were already well on their way toward the swamp. They told themselves that they must hold out until they arrived. Their hearts beat wildly at the possibility of another sudden victory over the Mohawks.
"Our people will come," Spotted Deer said, confidently. "Pretty soon we will see the Mohawks running like rabbits."
The swamp was almost dark. It was difficult to see between the trees. The shadows were lengthening. Night was closing its long black fingers about the forest. All was hushed. The Delawares believed that the hour of peril was at hand. They peered fearfully from their cover, and listened closely for the approach of their foes.
"What has become of them?" Crooked Foot asked, suspiciously, when half of the night had passed.
"I do not know what to make of it," Spotted Deer told him.
"Perhaps they have gone away," said Dancing Owl.
"No," declared Yellow Wolf. "Keep watching. They will come."
The night was far gone when they finally heard sounds which convinced them that the Mohawks were close at hand. A soft, cautious signal sounded through the darkness. Some moments afterward a twig cracked. The Delawares prepared to defend themselves. They feared that their foes were creeping silently toward the barricade.