Meanwhile Little Horse sat in the wigwam of the Iroquois village awaiting the decision of the council and it was not long in coming. Soon a rather tall Iroquois brave entered and standing in the doorway he informed Little Horse that the council had agreed to spare his life if tomorrow he could prove himself worthy of the gift of life by running the gauntlet.
When the sun was directly overhead he would be placed at the head of two rows of Iroquois and at a given signal would run the gauntlet of war clubs prepared for him.
It would be ridiculous to say that Little Horse was not frightened, for at this particular time Little Horse was a very scared little brave. He had known nothing but comfort and warmth and friendliness since the day he was born, and the loving care and kindness of his family and friends had been his only contact with Indian life. Here in the village of a tribe which he had not thought to be hostile, he suddenly found himself a prisoner and about to be forced to run the gauntlet of war clubs.
He had heard a great deal about the gauntlet from his father who had witnessed the gauntlet and had told of his experience as one of the line of braves making up the gauntlet when they dealt with some of their prisoners.
Little Horse was afraid, and his fear kept him from resting his body for the coming ordeal. Then in the midst of this fear which gripped his heart, Little Horse remembered the words of his father.
“My son,” Running Bear had said to him one day, “if ever you should find yourself in trouble or in danger, remember that you are a Delaware and the Delawares are a strong and proud people. Rest as much as you can, force your body to relax so that you may be prepared for whatever ordeal you must face. You have been taught every skill possible except the skill of courage. This you must have in your heart and if courage abides in your heart as the beaver in the stream, then fear can be overcome and one can consider himself prepared for any hardship which may lie ahead.”
Remembering those words was great comfort to Little Horse and again and again he kept repeating them to himself. Soon the chill that seemed to be in his body left him and the cold fear that gripped his heart released its hold and he was calm once again. When his body relaxed and his mind was at ease, Little Horse slept.
No sense to worry over what tomorrow will bring, but remember the words of Running Bear. Twice more he repeated the words of his father to himself and with that he was asleep.
He had not been asleep long when the door of the wigwam was darkened by two of the braves who had aided in his capture that afternoon. As they viewed the boy asleep on the floor, the taller of the two spoke.
“He sleeps. Look how calm his face is. Notice the slight smile upon his lips. This is the sign of a growing warrior. Courage burns deep in his heart. For even now, knowing that tomorrow he may have to die, he sleeps the peaceful sleep of a baby. This lad can be no more than fifteen and yet he is tall and strong and he had a good face. For many moons we have been at peace with our brothers the Delawares and now war and bloodshed.” The other brave shook his head and, looking at the lad, he spoke.