Shortly after dark the impatient young Delawares set out on their perilous search for the Mohawk camp. When they reached the base of the ridge they stopped to listen. Then, as they heard nothing to arouse their suspicions, they climbed carefully up the steep brushy slope. They were almost at the top when Running Fox thought he heard something moving through the bushes. They immediately dropped and lay close to the ground. They waited a long time, but nothing appeared. At last they decided that they had been needlessly alarmed, and they rose and continued up the ridge.
Once on top the Delawares’ first thought was to look for the glow of the Mohawk fires. When they failed to find them they began to lose hope. It was evident that the Mohawk camp was not where they had expected to find it.
“I do not see what I expected to find—it is bad,” whispered Spotted Deer.
Running Fox made no reply. He appeared to be listening.
“That smoke must have been another signal,” said Spotted Deer.
Running Fox still continued silent. He sat with his bow across his knees, staring moodily into the night. Having been unable to draw him into conversation, Spotted Deer, too, subsided into silence and waited patiently for Running Fox to announce a plan of action.
They sat there for a long time, and then they were suddenly roused by the sound of a dog barking somewhere near the spot where they had looked for the Mohawk camp. Running Fox instantly became alert. Cautioning Spotted Deer to silence, he listened eagerly. In a few moments the barking changed to sharp cries of pain, and it was evident that the animal had been cowed into silence. Then for a long time all was still.
“Now I know what I came here to find out,” said Running Fox. “My ears have told me what my eyes could not see. Spotted Deer, the great Mohawk camp is down there where we heard that dog.”
“Where are the fires?” demanded Spotted Deer.
“Perhaps there are no fires,” replied Running Fox. “Perhaps they are hidden by the trees. Perhaps the camp is closed in by high stakes. I do not know how it comes that we cannot see the fires, but I believe the camp is there.”
“Then we will go down there and find it,” Spotted Deer proposed, impulsively.
“No, I have a different plan,” Running Fox told him. “I am going down there alone. I will look around. Then I will come back and tell you about it. You must wait here.”
“Running Fox, that is not a good thing to do,” protested Spotted Deer. “I must go with you. Perhaps you will get into a fight down there. Yes, I must be there to help you.”
“Spotted Deer, I am the leader,” Running Fox reminded him. “I am doing this thing because it is the best way to go about it. If we both go down there and get caught then there will be no chance to get away. If I go down there alone and get caught then you must get me out of it. I will not go into the camp without you, but I must go and look around. It is the only way to do. I will not talk any more about it.”
“Running Fox, you say that you are the leader, it is true,” replied Spotted Deer. “Yes, I will do what you tell me to do. I believe it is the best way.”
“That is good,” said Running Fox. “Now I will tell you something different. If anything had happens to me down there I will make the call of Quenischquney, the panther. If you hear that then you must come down there and do what you can. But perhaps you will get into danger. Then you must make the call of Quenisehquney. Then I will come to help you. Now I am going away.”
“I will keep singing the sacred songs to help you,” said Spotted Deer.
“Yes, that will be a good thing to do,” agreed Running Fox.
A moment later he disappeared into the night. Running Fox moved down the ridge with great caution, for he felt quite sure that Mohawk sentinels were somewhere within bow-shot of him. He stopped many times to listen, but heard nothing to alarm him. When he reached the bottom of the ridge he turned directly toward the place where he had heard the dog barking. As he advanced he kept a sharp watch for the warning glow of the Mohawk fires. The forest was very dense, however, and as he believed that the Mohawk village might be walled about by a log stockade he had little hope of discovering the fires. Then he thought of a better plan. Moistening one of his fingers, he raised it above his head and learned that what little wind there was came from the north. As he was traveling almost due west, he made a wide detour to get the wind in his face. Soon afterward he saw the value of the wily maneuver, when the unmistakable odor of smoke was borne to his nostrils. It filled him with joy, for he realized that at last he had found an easy trail to the hostile camp.
Running Fox followed the tell-tale smoke scent with the eager persistence of a famished wolf. As long as the breeze held steady he hurried along with little fear of going astray. However, when the wind weakened, or shifted, his task became more difficult. Under those conditions he invariably lost the trail, and was compelled to circle about until he found it. Thus he felt his way toward his goal, until at last he was halted by the familiar sounds from the camp itself. He stopped and raised his eyes to Getanittowit.
“O Getanittowit, I have come near to the camp of my enemies, the proud and boastful Mohawks,” whispered Running Fox. “O Getanittowit, I am in great danger. O Getanittowit, make me as sharp as Woakus, the fox, and as brave as Machque, the bear. O Getanittowit, take pity on me and help me.”
Having made this earnest appeal to Getanittowit, the Great One, the devout young Delaware resumed his daring advance toward the Mohawk camp. As he neared it the sounds increased, and he knew that the village contained many people, The thought made him more cautious, and he stopped to reconnoiter. Running Fox felt sure that he was within a few bow-shots of the village, and yet he could see no trace of it. He scouted cautiously through the woods looking for it, but although the sounds warned him that the camp was dangerously close at hand the night effectually hid it from his sight.
“This comes of not following the advice of Gokhus, the Medicine Owl,” the superstitious young Delaware told himself. “Gokhus is the only one who can see through the dark. Yes, if I had the skin of the great white Medicine Owl I believe I would be able to see this camp.”
Nevertheless he determined to continue looking for the Mohawk village. He knew that to come within sight of the camp he must run the risk of capture and death, but he felt little fear. He believed that Getanittowit would help him, and the assurance gave him courage. He advanced, therefore, with every faculty keenly alert, determined to actually see the hostile camp before he thought of turning back.
Running Fox was moving slowly through the woods when he suddenly found himself on the edge of a large clearing. Corn and squashes were growing there, and the Delaware instantly realized that he had found the Mohawk camp. The thought set his heart beating wildly. Then he heard a number of persons chanting a song, and looking toward the sound he saw a long high, shadow stretching across one side of the clearing. He knew at once that it was a log stockade enclosing the camp. He saw a pale yellow glow above it, and he believed it came from the Mohawk fires.
Having finally got within arrow-range of his goal, Running Fox shrank back into the shadows of the forest, and looked upon the great Mohawk camp with awe. For a moment or so it frightened him, and he found himself trembling with nervousness. It looked like a huge trap from which it would be hard to escape. The thought weakened his confidence. He heard a dog barking, and he wondered if it had caught his scent. He raised a moistened finger into the air to test the wind. It was in his favor, and he felt much relieved. A few moments afterward a small square of light appeared in the long black wall. Something black flashed across it, and then the light vanished into the night. Running Fox was perplexed. He wondered if it had been a signal of some sort. Perhaps he had been discovered. The possibility brought sweat to his brow. For an instant he thought of retreating. However, the very suggestion filled him with shame. He asked himself if Running Fox, the son of the great war-chief, Black Panther, were a coward.
“No, I will not run away,” he whispered, savagely. “I will stay here, and see what is going to happen to me.”
Then, as he continued to watch the grim black outline of the stockade, the square of light again appeared, and this time it was some moments before it vanished. In the meantime a number of dark objects had flashed across it. Running Fox was unable to explain it. It seemed as if it must be a signal to some one outside of the village. Still he could not understand how it was done. He knew that there was no fire outside of the stockade, else he would have seen the glare. Then where did the light come from, and what made it? For a long time Running Fox was unable to guess. At last, however, the truth flashed across his mind.
“Hi, now I know about it,” he told himself.
“There is a hole in that log wall. Yes, some one pulled something away, and made it open. Then some one moved something across that place. Then some one closed it up again, and made it dark. Pretty soon some one opened it again. Then some one moved something across that place many times. Perhaps it was a signal.”
Having guessed that much, it was only a few moments until the sharp-witted young scout learned the full truth. He realized that the opening must have been an entrance or door into the village, and that the mysterious black objects which had momentarily shut out the light were people either entering or leaving the camp. That, however, was the only point about which he had any doubt. He would have given much to know whether the people who had passed through the opening were warriors returning from the war-trail, or scouts going out to look for the enemy. Then, as a great commotion suddenly broke out in the camp, Running Fox believed that the answer had been given by the Mohawks themselves.
“Yes, I believe some warriors have come back from the fight with the Shawnees,” said Running Fox.
Each moment the noise increased, and it was evident that a celebration of some sort was in progress. Then the glow above the stockade brightened, and Running Fox believed that the fires were being rekindled in preparation for some important ceremony. The thought pleased him, for he believed that with the Mohawks absorbed in celebrating a victory, it would be easier to approach the village. Having discovered the entrance into the camp, the reckless lad resolved to have at least one peep at his foes before he returned to Spotted Deer.
Running Fox waited until the noise indicated that the celebration was well in progress, and then he moved toward the camp. He had carefully noted the location of the opening in the stockade, but he feared to approach it, for he knew that at any moment he might encounter some one leaving the village. He turned toward the end of the stockade, therefore, and was almost within leaping distance of the camp when he was halted by a challenge directly behind him. Acting upon the impulse of the moment, Running Fox stopped for an instant, and mumbled an unintelligible reply. Then, as the night hid the person who had hailed him, he tried to hurry away. He planned to dodge around the end of the stockade and dash into the woods. The ruse failed, however, for the suspicious Mohawk followed him. Aware that further attempts to deceive would be useless, Running Fox ran off at great speed. The Mohawk immediately raced after him, yelling at the top of his voice.
As Running Fox dodged around the end of the stockade he crashed into two Mohawks who were running up at the call of their tribesman. The surprise was mutual, and all three fell to the ground. A moment afterward the young Delaware found himself lying helplessly upon his back with two stalwart warriors holding him down. As he attempted to shout a warning to Spotted Deer one of the Mohawks seized him by the throat and began to choke him unmercifully. However, Running Fox had no idea of surrendering. He fought with the fury of a wildcat until one of his foes struck him a stunning blow on the head with a war-club.
When the lad regained his senses some moments later he found himself surrounded by a number of Mohawk warriors. His arms had been tightly bound behind him, and a heavy piece of buckskin had been tied over his mouth. As Running Fox opened his eyes, the warrior who had choked him kneeled and glared fiercely into his face. Then he seized him roughly by the shoulder, and motioned for him to rise. As the Delaware obeyed the Mohawks crowded excitedly about him, peering eagerly into his face, and threatening him with their weapons. Running Fox showed no fear, however, and in a few moments they ceased tormenting him and led him into the camp.
The Mohawk village was lighted by several large fires, and Running Fox saw a great many people gathered in the center of the camp. They were mostly women and children, with a small company of old men and guards who had been left behind to protect the village when the warriors had rushed out at the cry of alarm. As Running Fox was led into the firelight the Mohawks quickly recognized him as a Delaware, and immediately began to taunt and abuse him. The old women and the boys were particularly vicious, and several of the latter ran up and began to beat him with sticks. The Delaware’s eyes flashed threateningly, but he knew better than to resist for he realized that it would only expose him to still harsher treatment from his tormentors.
When Running Fox and his guards reached the center of the village they were beset by a great throng of people who seemed intent upon reaching the prisoner. They appeared so hostile that the Delaware feared they intended to kill him there and then. They surged wildly about him shouting their war-cries, and striking at him over the shoulders of his guards. The latter were struggling valiantly to protect him, but it looked as if they would be overpowered at any moment. At the height of the tumult, however, Running Fox saw several warriors hurrying forward from the other end of the camp. As they approached, the foremost warrior called out, and at the sound of his voice the Mohawks immediately fell back. It was evident that the warrior was a man of great authority, and Running Fox wondered if it could be Standing Wolf, the famous Mohawk war-chief.
A few moments afterward the Mohawk stood before him. He was a tall, broad-shouldered man of middle age, with a cruel face and restless black eyes. For a moment Running Fox felt afraid of him. Then, as the Mohawk looked searchingly into his face, the lad suddenly remembered that he must uphold the honor of his tribe. He raised his head and met the challenge unflinchingly. They gazed steadily at each other for several moments, and the vast assemblage of Mohawks watched them in silence. Then the Mohawk laughed scornfully, and turned to his people. He addressed them in a few sharp sentences, and his words were received with what seemed to be expressions of approval. At any rate the Mohawks made no further demonstrations against the prisoner, and Running Fox wondered whether the warrior had spoken in his behalf. It seemed too much to expect, however, and the young Delaware feared that his relief was only the prelude to a more trying ordeal yet in store for him. Then he saw the man whom he took to be Standing Wolf, talking to the three warriors whom Running Fox had encountered outside of the camp. A moment later one of them approached him, and untied the buckskin bandage which had been placed over his mouth. For an instant Running Fox was tempted to shout a warning to Spotted Deer. Upon second thought, however, he abandoned the idea. He doubted that Spotted Deer would hear it, and besides, he believed it would be foolish to acquaint the Mohawks with the fact that he had a companion. In the meantime the Mohawk leader had again approached him. Running Fox was greatly astounded to hear him speak in the Delaware dialect.
“Do the boastful Delawares send boys to fight their enemies?” he inquired, sarcastically.
Running Fox made no reply.
“Well, do Delaware children remain silent when they are spoken to?” the Mohawk demanded, angrily. “I do not like that. When Standing Wolf speaks he must be answered. Come, speak fast or I will teach you how to obey.”
“I will answer you,” Running Fox said, angrily. “Standing Wolf, you have asked me something. Well, I will tell you what you wish to know. My people keep their men to fight the brave Shawnees. My people send their boys to kill the Mohawks.”
It was a reckless speech, and Running Fox immediately realized that he had sealed his doom as he looked into the angry eyes of Standing Wolf. For a moment the great Mohawk war-chief looked upon him in unconcealed amazement. Then he mumbled something, and advanced threateningly. Running Fox showed no signs of weakening, however, and Standing Wolf struck him a stinging blow across the mouth. It was the signal for a wild outbreak from the onlookers, for they realized that their famous war-chief had been insulted by a mere lad. The thought drove them into a frenzy, and only the prompt interference of Standing Wolf himself saved the Delaware from instant torture and death. When he had quieted the people, the Mohawk chief called several trusted warriors to lead Running Fox away.
The unhappy lad was taken to a square bark lodge or shack. It contained a single room or compartment, and appeared dark and uninhabited. Once inside the building, the Mohawks threw Running Fox to the ground and bound his feet, which until that moment had been free. Then they left him.
The two guards had barely gone from hearing when Running Fox heard something stirring over in a corner of the lodge. However, darkness made it impossible to tell what it was. He listened anxiously, and finally thought he heard some one chanting a medicine-song. It was low and indistinct, but still there was something about it that sounded familiar. A few moments later Running Fox identified it as one of the songs which he had learned from old Sky Dog, the Delaware medicine-man. Then the startling truth suddenly confronted him.
“Spotted Deer!” Running Fox cried in a tense whisper.
“Yes, Running Fox, I am here,” replied Spotted Deer. “This is very bad. Now I know that there is no chance for us.”
Spotted Deer said that he had been surprised and captured soon after Running Fox left him. At first the Mohawks mistook him for a Shawnee, and his appearance in the camp was the occasion for a wild commotion. He was taken to the center of the village and tied to the torture stake. Then the Mohawks suddenly discovered that he was a Delaware. They seemed greatly surprised, and it was evident that they feared the presence of a Delaware war-party somewhere near the camp. Thinking to frighten the young captive into telling them what they wished to know, Standing Wolf threatened him with all sorts of terrible tortures if he refused to give the information they desired. However, Spotted Deer scorned the threats, and the Mohawks were unable to make him talk. At last they unbound him, and threw him into the lodge in which Running Fox so unexpectedly found him.
“Now I have told you how I came here,” concluded Spotted Deer.
“Well, I see that you could not help it, but it is very bad,” replied Running Fox.
Then he related his own experiences. When he told how he had defied the great Mohawk war-chief, Spotted Deer exclaimed in astonishment.
“That was a foolish thing to do,” he declared.
“Yes, I see that I did a bad thing,” acknowledged Running Fox. “I believe I will be killed, but you may live to get away and tell our people what they wish to know.”
“No, Running Fox, I believe the Mohawks will kill me, too,” said Spotted Deer.
At that moment Running Fox thought he heard some one moving cautiously away from the entrance of the lodge, and he feared that spies had been stationed there to listen. The Delawares immediately ceased talking. They lay there a long time listening, but all was still. The night-hush had fallen upon the camp, and it was evident that the Mohawks had retired to their lodges. However, the lads felt quite sure that the entrance to their own lodge was closely guarded. Still it seemed like an unnecessary precaution, for they had been so skillfully bound that they would have been unable to escape even if the way had been open.
Left to their thoughts, the lads immediately began to speculate upon their chances. Running Fox believed that for himself at least death was inevitable, and he tried to become reconciled to the thought. However, his great fear was that by antagonizing the Mohawk chief he had also sealed the fate of Spotted Deer. The possibility filled him with despair. If only Spotted Deer might be spared to eventually learn and carry away the secret which had brought them to the Mohawk camp, Running Fox would have been willing to suffer and die without complaining. Now, however, he believed that his sacrifice would be in vain. The idea drove him into a frenzy. Carried away by emotion, he fought desperately to free himself from his bonds. His efforts were useless, however, and he soon saw the folly of wasting his strength, for the present escape seemed impossible.
“It is no use to fight that way,” Spotted Deer told him. “No, we must wait until we get a better chance.”
“That is true,” agreed Running Fox.
The long night finally passed, and as day dawned the lads looked anxiously about the lodge to learn if they were guarded. They appeared to be alone, but they mistrusted that sharp-eared sentinels were just outside the entrance. However, the lads took advantage of their privacy to study the details of their prison. It was a square, one story structure about four bow-lengths high. It was made of slabs of bark which were held in place by two rows of upright saplings or poles. The roof, which was peaked, was also of bark, and had a small square opening in the center to let out the smoke of the camp-fire. The lads found themselves in a room about four bow-lengths square, with a shallow fire-pit in the middle, and low willow bunks or platforms along two sides. The lodge would have accommodated six or eight persons, and was similar in design and material to those erected by the Delawares. It showed no signs of recent occupancy.
It was not long before the Delawares heard some one approaching. Their hearts quickened at the sound, for it suggested a number of disturbing possibilities. Then the robe which covered the doorway was drawn aside, and a warrior entered the lodge. He was a great powerful fellow, and he stared so fiercely at the captives that they felt quite sure he meant them no good. They returned his glances without wavering, and in a few moments he turned and called to some one outside. An aged woman answered the summons, and the lads saw that she brought food and water.
The warrior kneeled and unbound their hands. Then the old woman placed meat and water before them, and hobbled away. The guard, however, instantly began to annoy them. Pointing at the bones and scraps of meat which had been set before them, he imitated the whining of a dog, and laughed boisterously. The Delawares knew that he was trying to make them understand that they had been fed with the leavings from the camp which ordinarily were given to the dogs. The lads gave no sign that they comprehended the insult. Realizing that refusal to eat the food might subject them to a brutal attack, they consumed it in sullen obedience. Then they looked expectantly toward the Mohawk. He was laughing and making significant gestures with his knife to make them realize the punishments that awaited them. They watched him without the slightest trace of emotion. Their indifference seemed to anger him, and he began to talk fiercely in the Mohawk dialect. The lads showed plainly that they did not understand his threats, and he suddenly seemed to realize that he was making himself ridiculous. A moment afterward he tied their hands behind them, and drew the buckskin thongs deep into the flesh. Then he laughed gleefully, and left the lodge.
“That warrior is very fierce,” said Spotted Deer, as the footfalls died away.
“Well, he did not frighten us,” boasted Running Fox.
“That made him mad,” laughed Spotted Deer.
It was not long before they began to feel the effects of his cruelty. The tight buckskin thongs ate slowly into their flesh, and caused them great agony. However, they bore it in silence. Each knew what the other was enduring, but neither of them was willing to acknowledge that the Mohawk had made him suffer.
As the day progressed they heard considerable noise and confusion in the camp, and they believed that the Mohawks were preparing for some important ceremony. The thought filled them with gloomy premonitions. Running Fox, especially, read a warning in the sounds. He knew that his bold defiance of the famous war-chief would not be permitted to pass unpunished, and he feared that at any moment he would be called out to pay the penalty. He had heard many stories about the awful tortures which the Mohawks inflicted upon their prisoners, and he wondered if he were about to experience them. The possibility tried his nerve.
“Running Fox, what I hear makes me feel bad,” Spotted Deer said, uneasily. “Perhaps the Mohawks are getting ready to kill us.”
“We must be brave,” Running Fox told him.
Soon afterward several fierce looking warriors entered the lodge, and stared at the captives. However, they made no attempt to annoy them, and left without speaking. The lads were at a loss to explain the visit. Then other warriors came, and several women and children. As none of the visitors showed any inclination to harm them, the Delawares felt somewhat reassured. They knew that the Iroquois tribes often adopted young warriors whom they captured, and they wondered if they, too, were to be spared. The thought gave them hope, for while they would not have thought of pledging allegiance to their foes, still they believed that they might be able to turn the opportunity to good advantage.
“Yes, we will fool the Mohawks until we find a chance to get away,” whispered Spotted Deer.
“They are sharp,” Running Fox warned him.
Then they heard criers going about the camp calling the people to assemble. Their fears immediately returned. They listened anxiously as the Mohawks began to sing, and shout their war-cries. Then the noise suddenly ceased. The Delawares heard some one talking excitedly. They thought they recognized the voice of Standing Wolf, the Mohawk war-chief. At the end of the talk a great shout went up from the camp.
“I do not like that,” said Running Fox. “I believe some one is turning the Mohawks against us.”
“Perhaps they are talking about something different,” Spotted Deer replied, hopefully. “Perhaps a war-party is going out to fight the Shawnees.”
“No, I do not believe it,” said Running Fox. “Spotted Deer, I believe we will soon be killed.”
However, no one came to disturb them until the end of the day, and then the warrior and the old woman again entered the lodge with food and water. When the Mohawk unbound their wrists the lads found that they had temporarily lost the use of their arms. They made several attempts to reach the food that had been placed before them, but for some moments they were unable to raise their hands from their sides. The Mohawk seemed to take great delight in their discomfort. He jeered, and laughed, and insisted upon their eating the food. The lads feared that if they were unable to comply with his demands he would take away the food, and tell the Mohawks that they had refused it. They made heroic efforts, therefore, and finally succeeded in getting the food to their mouths. Then the guard again bound their wrists, and left them to suffer.
As the evening shadows fell upon the camp the Delawares once more heard sounds of hustling activity. The Mohawks were breaking wood for fires, and the lads felt a vague premonition of danger. In a few moments they heard the crackling of the flames, and saw the light through the hole in the roof of the lodge. They waited in anxious suspense.
“Pretty soon we will know what is going to happen to us,” said Running Fox. “Do you feel brave?”
“I believe we are in great danger, but I am not afraid,” replied Spotted Deer.
An ominous hush had fallen upon the camp. Then the covering was drawn from the doorway of the lodge, and three warriors entered. The lads knew at once that these men had been sent to get them, and they feared that their hour of trial was at hand. For a moment they weakened. Then as the Mohawks came toward them, they recovered their courage, and waited calmly to learn their fate.
“Be brave,” said Running Fox.
“I am a Delaware,” Spotted Deer replied, proudly.
One of the Mohawks stooped and freed Running Fox from his bonds.
Then they motioned for him to rise. It was evident that they had no intention of taking Spotted Deer. The latter struggled furiously to rise and accompany his friend, but the Mohawks laughed and pushed him back.
“Keep still,” said Running Fox. “You must keep alive to finish this thing. I am not afraid to die. Tell my father those words.”
Before he had finished speaking the Mohawks were leading him toward the door of the lodge. He walked with difficulty, however, for his legs had been so tightly bound that circulation had been entirely stopped. Each step was agony, but the courageous lad fought hard to conceal his suffering. As he was pushed roughly from the lodge he heard Spotted Deer frantically singing the medicine-songs which old Sky Dog had taught him. Running Fox wondered whether they would save him in the present emergency.
Running Fox saw the Mohawks gathered about a great fire in the center of the camp. They greeted his appearance with a wild outburst of yells, and he realized that he could expect no mercy. His guards led him toward the fire, and stood him with his back against a stout stake, a short distance from the flames. Then Standing Wolf and a number of important looking warriors walked up to him. For some moments they stared at him in silence, and Running Fox looked fearlessly into their eyes. He knew only too well the severity of the punishment which was about to be inflicted upon him, but he determined to endure it without flinching. He felt that the honor of his tribe was at stake, and the thought gave him courage. The last trace of fear had left him, and he found himself calm and unafraid. In a few moments he heard the Mohawk chief addressing him in the Delaware tongue.
“Well, you were very boastful when you came here; do you feel brave now?” demanded Standing Wolf.
“A Delaware is always brave,” replied Running Fox.
“Well, we will see about it,” Standing Wolf declared, warningly.
He turned and spoke a few words to the warriors behind him, and Running Fox saw them smile contemptuously. Then Standing Wolf began to address the great throng of people who had gathered about the fire. His speech seemed to greatly excite them, and when he finished they began to shout, and jeer, and threaten the captive. However, Standing Wolf and his escort kept them in control. Then the chief spoke to the warriors who had brought Running Fox from the lodge, and they immediately bound the lad to the stake.
“Young man, you are about to see how the Mohawks treat their enemies,” said Standing Wolf. “You, alone, are to blame for whatever happens to you. You are young, and I might have saved you. But you talked very boastful. Yes, you have made my heart black against you. Now you must pay for it.”
Running Fox remained silent. There was nothing to say. He realized that he had blundered, and that the blunder was to cost him his life.
Standing Wolf gave the signal, and a noisy company of women and boys formed about the prisoner, while the warriors looked on. Then several old men raised their voices in a weird chant, and the Mohawks began to dance about the post. Running Fox saw that they were armed with supple willow wands or whips, and he easily imagined what they intended to do with them. They beat him unmercifully, but he endured it without a tremor. Many diabolical old women tried to blind him by striking him across the eyes, but he foiled them by slightly raising his head so that the blows fell short. Standing Wolf and his warriors looked on with sullen indifference, and Running Fox wondered if they intended to have him beaten to death. Not until many of the women had exhausted themselves did the Mohawk chief finally interfere, and stop them. Then he again confronted the prisoner.
“Have you any words now?” he inquired scornfully.
Running Fox was covered with welts and gashes, but his eyes flashed as defiantly as ever. He ignored the taunt, and remained silent.
“Well, I see that you are afraid to speak,” said Standing Wolf. “When your mouth is closed your ears must be open. Listen to what I am about to say. What you have just gone through is only the beginning of what is going to happen to you. The women and boys have beaten you. Now we will show you something different.”
When Standing Wolf finished speaking he called to the warriors, and they formed a great circle about the prisoner. Most of them carried knives and war-clubs, but a few had bows and arrows. When they had taken their places Standing Wolf pointed at Running Fox, and spoke briefly in a fierce tone. What he said seemed to rouse the Mohawks to a fury, and as soon as he finished they began to dance wildly about the captive.
“O Getanittowit, help me,” whispered Running Fox. “O Getanittowit, make me strong.”
As they danced past the stake each warrior crouched and yelled fiercely into the ears of the erect young Delaware. Several struck him across the face with their open palms, but he gave no evidence that he felt the blows. Convinced that he was about to receive the full fury of the hatred which the Mohawks held for his people, Running Fox resolved to die like a hero. The Mohawks were rapidly rousing themselves into a frenzy. They had drawn their knives, and were making vicious passes within a few inches of his body. Some who carried war-clubs rushed forward and struck the post within a handbreadth of his head. Running Fox bore it all without flinching.
Then Standing Wolf once more interrupted the proceedings. This time, however, he did not address the prisoner, but called several of his escort aside and began to talk earnestly. A number of fiendish old women immediately took advantage of the opportunity to attack the prisoner. They rushed upon him with their sticks, and began to beat him over the head and shoulders. Standing Wolf saw them, however, and promptly ordered them to stop. A moment or so afterward he spoke to the warriors. Running Fox watched him closely. He was unable to guess whether Standing Wolf was talking for or against him. The Mohawks received his words in silence, and the Delaware imagined he read disappointment in many of the faces. At the conclusion of the talk two warriors left the circle, and approached the prisoner. They stopped in front of him, and one drew his knife. He stood a moment staring fixedly into the eyes of Running Fox. The great crowd of Mohawks watched in ominous silence. Standing Wolf was standing with his arms folded across his breast, smiling grimly. Running Fox felt that his end was at hand, and he straightened proudly to receive the knife-thrust in his heart. A murmur of approval rose from the Mohawks. Many moments passed. Still the warrior hesitated to carry out his command. Running Fox felt himself weakening under the suspense. It was evident that the wily chief was hoping to break down his courage before he killed him. The thought gave the lad new strength. Having endured that far, he determined to maintain his nerve to the end. He waited, therefore, smiling scornfully into the eyes of the warrior who confronted him.
Then the Mohawk darted forward to perform his mission, but instead of driving his knife into the heart of the prisoner he passed behind him, and severed the thongs which bound him to the stake. A moment afterward two guards led the astounded Delaware back to the lodge in which he had been imprisoned.
“Well, my brother, Getanittowit has listened to the medicine-songs!” Spotted Deer cried, joyfully, as soon as the Mohawks had passed out. “I believed the Mohawks killed you, and I wanted to die. Now my heart is filled with songs. Tell me how you come to be alive.”
“I cannot tell you that,” Running Fox said, confusedly. “I believed I would be dead by now, and here I am alive. It is very mysterious.”
For a long time the lads were kept in continual doubt as to whether they were to live or die. Then they unexpectedly found a friend in the young son of one of the Mohawk medicine-men, a man of great influence with Standing Wolf. From that time their uncertainty was set at rest. The young Mohawk made them understand that they were not to be killed. Some time later, when he had learned to express himself in the Delaware tongue, he told why Running Fox had been spared.
The Mohawk said that Standing Wolf had determined to kill Running Fox, but the medicine-man interfered. The latter had had a dream concerning the youthful prisoners, and declared that a great calamity would fall upon the camp if they were put to death. At first Standing Wolf paid little attention to him, and prepared to carry out his revenge. However, at the very moment when Running Fox was tied to the torture stake misfortunes began to fall upon the camp. First an old man fell and broke his leg. Then a child of one of the women who was participating in the attack on Running Fox died suddenly while the mother was in the act of beating the prisoner. As a climax the medicine-bundle fell from its tripod in the sacred lodge, as the warriors were dancing about the stake. Word of the strange coincidences was instantly carried to the Mohawk chief, and when the alarmed medicine-man himself rushed up and told what had happened to the medicine-bundle even Standing Wolf became filled with superstitious awe, and immediately altered his decision regarding the fate of the captive.
The Delawares showed great interest in the Mohawk medicine-bundle, and asked a number of questions concerning it. They asked in vain, however, for the young Mohawk only shook his head, and pretended to misunderstand them. Fearing that further questioning might arouse his suspicions, they immediately changed the topic of conversation.
Although Standing Wolf had spared the lives of the Delawares, he used every means in his power to annoy and humiliate them. For a long time he compelled them to go about the village with their hands loosely bound behind them, so that they were powerless to save themselves from the attacks of the women and children whom he made no attempt to restrain. He also kept them on the verge of starvation, and fed them with the most unpalatable scraps from the camp. They were warned that if they approached nearer than a bow-shot to the doorway in the stockade they would be killed by the first person who saw them. As they were constantly watched, and the entrance to the camp was continually closed and barred with massive logs, the lads thought the warning quite unnecessary. Then as the days passed they were permitted to wander more freely about the village. However, they soon realized that to attempt to escape would be the height of folly. Therefore, they continued to cultivate their friendship with the son of the medicine-man in the hope of eventually learning the secret which had brought them upon their mission. With that once in their possession, they had implicit faith that Getanittowit himself would offer them an opportunity to escape from their foes.
The Delawares had been in the Mohawk camp many days when Winaminge, The-Time-Of-Roasting-Ears, arrived. It was at that season that the Iroquois gathered together to celebrate the Green Corn Festival. Sometimes the various Iroquois tribes celebrated the occasion in their own village, and at other times they traveled to the villages of their nearest tribesmen. Upon this particular occasion, however, it was apparent that the Mohawks intended to observe the festival by themselves. The Delawares watched the preparations with interest, for they were similar to those which they had observed in their own tribe, and they hoped that before the four days’ celebration ended they might learn the secret for which they were risking themselves.
In celebrating the Green Corn Festival the ceremonies were begun each day soon after dawn, and ended promptly at midday, or when the sun reached the meridian. It was a festival of thanksgiving to Ha-weu-ne-yu, the Great Spirit, for ripening the corn, beans and squashes. On the day before the celebration began, the entire tribe gathered in the center of the village to confess their wrong deeds, and promise to live better lives. Strips of white shells, or wampum, were passed from one to another, and each person held it while acknowledging his misdeeds, and pledging himself to a better life in the future. The wampum was believed to record and preserve each pledge. The women and even the older children were required to join in the ceremony. The Delawares, however, were barred from participating, or approaching within hearing distance. They looked on in respectful silence from the door of their lodge.
“Well, we have made the vows,” the young Mohawk told them at the conclusion of the ceremony. “When the next sun comes we will begin the celebration.”
The lads would have liked to ask him if the mysterious medicine-bundle would appear in the ceremony. They realized, however, that any reference to it might ruin all chance of learning what they wished to know.
“Running Fox, I believe that these people are about to do a great thing,” said Spotted Deer. “I believe Standing Wolf and the medicine-men will have much to do with it. If we watch sharp perhaps we will find out something about the mysterious medicine-bundle that gives this great chief his power.”
“Yes, that is true,” replied Running Fox. “But we must be very careful. The Mohawks are as cute as Sanquen, the weasel. If they find out what we are after it will be the end of us.”
The Green Corn Festival began at dawn the following day. The Delawares were awakened by a number of criers, or couriers, who hurried through the camp calling the people from their lodges. As the lads reached the door of their lodge they saw the Mohawks gathering in the center of the village.
“Come, let us go over there, and see what is going to happen,” proposed Spotted Deer.
“Perhaps that will make the Mohawks mad,” suggested Running Fox.
“Well, that may be true,” replied Spotted Deer. “But I am going to see how near I can get.”
A moment afterward they were hurrying toward the center of the camp. They had not gone far, however, when they encountered a surly looking old woman who instantly challenged them. Pointing toward the lodge which they had just left she made them understand that they were to return at once. To be ordered about by a toothless old woman was a rather humiliating experience for the high tempered young Delawares, especially as they saw a number of warriors looking on with great amusement. For a moment, therefore, the lads held their ground. This drove the old woman into a wild rage, and she immediately seized a stick and began to beat them. Realizing that further resistance might lead to more serious consequences the Delawares began to walk slowly toward their lodge. The old woman was not satisfied, however, and she tried to make them run. A great crowd had gathered to watch her, and the Delawares heard much jeering and laughing at their expense. Carried away by anger, Spotted Deer suddenly wheeled and sprang at his tormentor, yelling so fiercely that the old woman dropped her stick and hobbled away as fast as she could go. The Mohawks were quick to see the humorous side of the incident, and laughed good naturedly.
“I believe that old woman is a witch,” Running Fox declared, angrily, when they reached the lodge. “She made us look foolish. Some time I will kill many Mohawks to wipe that out of my heart.”
“She made me very mad,” replied Spotted Deer. “Well, I frightened her, and now all the people are laughing about it. We must watch out. She will try to harm us.”
Then their thoughts were diverted by the appearance of Standing Wolf and a number of the principal men of the tribe. They stood in the middle of the camp, and the Mohawks formed around them. There was a few moments of silence, and then the Mohawk chief addressed his people. The eyes of the Delawares glowed threateningly as they watched him, for he was a cruel, relentless foe whom they had learned to hate.
“I would like to kill that man,” declared Spotted Deer.
“I believe he bears a charmed life,” said Running Fox. “We must find out how he gets his power before we can kill him.”
“When Standing Wolf had finished speaking he called the father of the lad who had befriended the Delawares, and the medicine-man approached with something wrapped in a small black bearskin. Then he drew off the robe, and presented Standing Wolf with what appeared to be a small bundle of bird and animal skins.
“It is the mysterious medicine-bundle!” Spotted Deer whispered, excitedly.
“Do not talk—watch,” Running Fox cautioned him.
They saw Standing Wolf carefully unfasten the wrappings from the medicine-bundle, and remove a skin of the great white Medicine Owl. He held it before him, and raised his face toward the heavens. It was evident that he was chanting a sacred medicine-song. Then he turned toward the four principal points of the compass, and repeated the ceremony. The Delawares watched him with fascinated eyes. They believed that at last the secret of his power had been discovered. Gokhos, the mysterious white Medicine Owl, was his lucky talisman.
“Now I know why Getanittowit put us in this camp,” said Running Fox. “Yes, I have seen the white robe of Gokhos, the Medicine Owl, and I will not go away without it.”
“It is wrapped in the mysterious medicine-bundle,” Spotted Deer warned him. “Much harm may come to us if we open one of those bundles.”
“No, I do not believe it,” replied Running Fox. “I must do as it appeared in my dream. Spotted Deer, if we get that mysterious white skin, I believe we will become as great as Standing Wolf.”
The thought fired their imagination. They lost all further interest in the Green Corn Festival, and cared only to know into which lodge the medicine-man carried the sacred bundle. They watched patiently until the first day’s ceremony ended at midday. Then they sought to keep the medicine-man and his precious burden in sight, but in spite of their best efforts he eluded them in the great throng of Mohawks, and their long vigil ended in bitter disappointment.
“I believe we will find it in the lodge of that medicine-man,” declared Spotted Deer.
“No, I believe it is in the lodge of Standing Wolf,” said Running Fox.
“Well, if that is true perhaps some bad Medicine Creatures will kill us if we go into the lodge,” Spotted Deer suggested, solemnly.
“Well, I cannot help it,” replied Running Fox. “When I find out where the mysterious medicine-bundle hangs I am going in to get that skin.”
“How will you get away?” inquired Spotted Deer.
“When I have that big medicine thing I will be able to do anything,” Running Fox assured him.
The Mohawks devoted the balance of the day to sports and games, and at dark they gathered for the great feast of succotash, which was made of corn, beans and squashes. The food was cooked in large clay urns, or bowls, and each member of the tribe helped himself. Before the people began to eat, however, one of the medicine-men started a weird, melancholy chant, and in a few moments the entire tribe united in a mighty chorus. It was a song of thanks to the Great Spirit, for supplying their wants. At the end of the simple ceremony, the Mohawks proceeded to enjoy themselves. The Delawares looked on with envious eyes, for in spite of the hilarity and good-will which prevailed at the feast the Mohawks showed no intention of sending any of the food to their captives. “Perhaps this would be a good time to look for the medicine-bundle,” suggested Spotted Deer. “The Mohawks are all together in the middle of the camp, and there will be no one to see us.”
“No, we must not go now,” Running Fox told him. “If we leave this lodge they will know about It. When we go to look for the medicine-bundle we must know how we are going to get out of the camp.”
The Green Corn Festival continued through the three following days, and each night the feast was resumed. The last night, however, was largely given up to a number of sacred dances which the Delawares were not permitted to see. While the dances were in progress the lads were bound, and confined in their lodge. An aged warrior sat in the doorway to prevent them from looking out.
The following day the village was thrown into a turmoil by the return of several Mohawk hunters who said that a large war-party of Chippewas were approaching from the north. The Delawares learned the news from their friend, the son of the medicine-man. He said that the Mohawks expected the Chippewas to attack the village in revenge for the death of a number of Chippewa hunters whom the Mohawks had surprised and killed some time previously.
“Yes, there will be a big fight,” declared the Mohawk. “The Chippewas are very fierce, but my people will kill them. My friends, I warn you to be very careful what you do. If you try to get away, or try to help the Chippewas, you will surely be killed.”
The Delawares instantly realized the significance of his warning, and they determined to profit by it. They knew that it would be foolhardy to attempt to escape while the camp was besieged by enemies, for it was certain that the entrances and weak spots would be more closely guarded than ever. Besides, they had little doubt that if they should fall into the hands of the Chippewas the latter would mistake them for Mohawks, and kill them at once.
“This thing is bad for us,” said Running Fox. “If this fight goes against the Mohawks they will believe that we have brought bad fortune upon them, and perhaps they will kill us. If the Chippewas break into the village they will kill us for Mohawks. We must do what we can to show the Mohawks that we have nothing to do with it.”
The Delawares wisely remained in their lodge, therefore, while the Mohawks prepared for battle. Scouts were immediately sent out to locate the hostile war-party, while a great company of warriors assembled to defend the camp. Standing Wolf and a number of sub-chiefs and medicine-men hurried to the council-lodge.
“Now perhaps we will see how this great chief gets his power,” said Spotted Deer.
“We will try to watch him,” replied Running Fox.
The day was almost ended when the lads saw the scouts enter the camp. A short time afterward the young Mohawk came to the lodge, and told the Delawares that the Mohawks expected the Chippewas to attack the village some time during the night or early dawn. He also boasted that his people had gained a notable victory over the Shawnees, and had sent them, fleeing toward their own boundaries in a wild panic.
“The foolish Chippewas have come a long distance to get here, but we will soon chase them away,” declared the Mohawk lad.
“Perhaps it will not be so easy,” suggested Spotted Deer.
“You will see,” laughed the young Mohawk.
The Delawares awaited the encounter with considerable impatience. They had been warned against leaving the lodge under penalty of death, and they realized that they would see little of the fight. However, they were determined to see as much as possible, and as soon as it grew dark they seated themselves in the doorway of the lodge. The camp was brightly illuminated to guard against the Chippewas scaling the stockade without being seen. Groups of warriors stood about the barred entrances, and others patrolled the inside of the stockade. Standing Wolf and several noted war-leaders stood in the center of the camp to give commands. The women and children, and even the dogs, were sheltered in the lodges.
“See, those warriors are talking about us,” said Running Fox.
Two of the warriors with Standing Wolf were looking toward the Delawares. In a few moments they spoke to the war-chief, and he, too, looked toward the Delawares.
“We have done a bad thing to show ourselves,” Running Fox declared, uneasily.
The next moment they saw Standing Wolf call one of the fighting men, and point at the lodge. The warrior at once turned and walked rapidly toward the Delawares.
“Something is going to happen to us,” said Running Fox.
“Come, we will move back into the lodge,” proposed Spotted Deer.
“No!” cried Running Fox. “We will not be frightened into our den like rabbits. We have put ourselves here. Well, we will stay here and meet this man.”
As the warrior approached them he began to talk fiercely, and point toward the interior of the lodge. The Delawares had little doubt about his meaning, and yet they made no attempt to comply with his commands. A moment later they realized their folly, for the Mohawk raised his bow and shot an arrow directly between them. It was a hint which they thought it well to accept, and they immediately withdrew into the lodge. The Mohawk entered after them, however, and proceeded to bind their hands and feet. Then, to make matters worse, he tied buckskin bandages over their eyes.
“Well, we have got ourselves into this trouble,” Running Fox declared, savagely. “It was foolish to show ourselves to Standing Wolf. Now we will see nothing. If the Chippewas get into the camp we will be killed like Moskimus, the rabbit, when we find him in our traps.”
“It is bad,” agreed Spotted Deer.
They lay a long time listening for the sounds of battle. An unusual hush had fallen upon the camp, and it was evident that the Mohawks also were listening. Then the notes of Gokhos, the owl, sounded close outside the camp. In a few moments they heard the logs being drawn from the opening in the stockade.
“One of the scouts has come into the camp to tell about something,” said Spotted Deer.
“Listen!” cried Running Fox. “The Chippewas have come.”
The melancholy howl of the timber wolf rang through the forest. It rose on four sides of the camp. Then a wild outburst of yells broke forth close to the stockade.
“The fight has begun!” Spotted Deer cried, excitedly.
For some time the Mohawks and their foes contented themselves with shouting defiance at one another. It was evident that the former felt quite secure behind their log stockade, and had no inclination to risk themselves in the open. It was not long, however, before the Delawares heard sounds which led them to believe that the Chippewas intended to force the fighting. They had apparently kindled fires on all side of the stockade in an effort to burn the village. The possibility was somewhat alarming to the helpless young captives in the deserted lodge. Once the stockade caught fire they knew that it would only be a question of moments before the dry bark lodge would be in flames. However, the noise from the camp indicated that the Mohawks were quick to realize the peril, and the Delawares had little doubt that they would rush out and attempt to extinguish the fires.
“Listen, the Mohawks are on the outside of the camp!” Running Fox cried, a few moments later.
The Delawares heard the fierce Mohawk war-cry ringing through the night on every side of the village, and they knew that a great fight was taking place on the other side of the stockade. The village was in wild disorder. The sounds of battle had alarmed the women and children, and roused the dogs, and all of them added their voices to the din. The camp was lighted by the lurid glare of the flames, while dense clouds of smoke rolled into the lodges. The Delawares feared that some of them had already been set on fire. Then somewhere on the opposite side of the village they heard sounds which set their hearts beating wildly.
“I believe the Chippewas have got into the camp!” declared Spotted Deer. “We will see if the great Standing Wolf can drive them out.”
However, in a few moments they heard the triumphant yells of the Mohawks, and they knew that the Chippewas had been forced out or overcome. The fight on the outside of the camp seemed to be raging in undiminished fury. Then there, too, the Mohawk war-cry echoed triumphantly through the night, and the Delawares believed that for the moment at least the Chippewas had been driven off.
“Well, the Mohawks have won a big battle,” said Spotted Deer, as the sounds of conflict gradually subsided.
“It is good,” declared Running Fox. “Perhaps it will help us. I believe the Chippewas have made a hole into the camp. Perhaps we will be able to crawl out.”
Soon afterward they heard the Mohawk war-party entering the village in triumph. They marched noisily about the camp shouting, and singing their war-songs. The Delawares wondered whether they had brought in any prisoners. Then the young Mohawk entered the lodge, and saw the predicament of his friends.
“Hi, my friends, my people have done what I told you about,” he cried, as he stooped and took the bandages from their eyes. “We have killed many Chippewas. All who escaped are running toward their lodges. Standing Wolf ran out and killed three Chippewas at one time. He is a great man. Perhaps this great victory will make his heart good toward you. Perhaps he will let you go. Now I will go, and talk with my father about it. Perhaps he will help you.”
“You are a Mohawk, but you are a good friend,” Running Fox said, warmly.
While the Delawares had little hope that the fierce Mohawk chief would relent and give them their liberty, still they realized that an appeal in their behalf from one of the powerful Mohawk medicine-men might go a long way toward gaining them sufficient freedom to enable them to escape.
“See, they do not free our hands and feet,” said Spotted Deer. “I believe the Chippewas have made an opening into the camp.”
“Well, we must try to do something,” declared Running Fox. “Pretty soon it will get light. Then perhaps we can look around, and see what has happened.”