Spotted Deer tried to guess the identity of the mysterious canoemen. He believed that they were Mohawks. The thought filled him with alarm. It suggested disturbing possibilities. They might be scouts moving down the river to spy upon the Delaware camp. Perhaps a war party was following close behind them. The idea filled him with gloom. He knew that the unsuspecting Delawares were totally unprepared for an attack, and he feared to think what might happen if a strong force of Mohawks should suddenly appear before the village. The possibility roused him. His heart filled with a reckless resolve to help his people. He determined to ignore his own peril, and slip away to warn the Delawares.
"Yes, yes, I must go," Spotted Deer told himself.
He listened for further sounds from his foes. As he heard nothing to arouse his suspicions he determined to begin his perilous journey down the river. Aware that the slightest sound might betray him, he drew the canoe toward the water with infinite care. After he had gone a bow-length he stopped to listen. All was quiet. Spotted Deer felt encouraged. Slowly, carefully, a bow-length at a time, he dragged the canoe to the river. When he reached the water he stopped and stared anxiously into the night. Then he stepped into the canoe, and pushed it from the shore.
Once afloat, Spotted Deer believed that he would be safer in the center of the river. The signals had sounded near the shore, and he felt sure that his enemies would expect to find him hiding in the heavy shadows from the forest. The entire river was shrouded in darkness, and Spotted Deer was unable to see more than a bow-length beyond his canoe. He paddled slowly, moving his paddle through the water to avoid making the slightest sound. Realizing that at any moment he might collide with his foes, he was alert and ready for an emergency.
Spotted Deer had gone several arrow flights when he suddenly heard voices. They were close by. He stopped his canoe, and attempted to locate the sounds. The talk had ceased. Spotted Deer wondered if his foes were as near as they had seemed. He knew that voices might be heard a long distance over water, and he realized that the sounds might have come from near the shore. He determined to make sure. His canoe drifted slowly with the water. He made no effort to stop it. It was an easy and noiseless way of slipping down he river.
In a few moments Spotted Deer again caught the low, ominous murmur of subdued voices. This time he located the sounds. They seemed to be directly ahead of him. The discovery alarmed him. He stopped his canoe and turned abruptly from his course. Having performed the maneuver without a sound, Spotted Deer hoped to pass safely by his foes. He had taken only a few paddle strokes, however, when he discovered a long, black object squarely in his path. There was no time to turn. Throwing all his strength into a quick deep stroke of his paddle, Spotted Deer crashed bow foremost against the side of a canoe. It immediately capsized and spilled its astounded occupants into the river. By the time they rose from beneath the water, the wily young Delaware had disappeared into the night.
Spotted Deer paddled furiously down the middle of the river. His eyes twinkled merrily as he heard the angry shouts of the men in the water. They were calling wildly to their companions. Spotted Deer grew serious when he heard their appeals answered from various parts of the river. He suddenly realized that he had encountered a strong force of his enemies. However, having successfully eluded them he was hopeful of getting away.
Then he heard the long, piercing shriek of Nianque, the lynx, some distance farther down the river. The cry had sounded perfectly natural, and still, under the circumstances, he mistrusted it. He ceased paddling and listened suspiciously. Precious moments passed. The call was not repeated. The cries and signals from his foes had stopped. An ominous hush had settled upon the forest. Spotted Deer feared it. He believed that the lynx cry had carried a warning.
"It is bad," he whispered.
Fearing to loiter, he moved cautiously down the river. He wondered if crafty scouts were waiting to intercept him. Could he escape them? The possibility of another collision with his mysterious foes tried his courage. Still, he believed that his safest plan was to continue on his way. Night was his ally, and he hoped to pass safely in the darkness. He felt quite sure that his foes were close behind him. He feared that they would soon overtake him. The thought made him reckless. He resolved to continue down the river.