The night passed without further attack, and at dawn the lads scouted
carefully about the scene of the battle and found the bodies of twelve
large timber wolves. They found another wounded wolf hiding under the
top of a fallen tree, and they rushed upon it and killed it with their
war-clubs. Well pleased with their victory, the young Delawares spent
some time chanting war-songs and dancing about the bodies of their
victims. Then they broke off the tusks of the largest wolves as trophies
to be proudly exhibited when they finally returned to the Delaware
village.
On the way back to the river Running Fox saw a small dark animal
bounding along ahead of him. He immediately ran in pursuit of it, and as
it flashed up the trunk of a tree he saw that it was, as he had guessed,
a black squirrel. The squirrel hid on one side of the tree, and as
Running Fox moved cautiously about the tree-trunk the crafty little
creature moved with him, so that he was unable to surprise it. At last,
however, Running Fox took his bow and stirred the leaves on the opposite
side of the tree. It was an old hunting trick which he had learned from
his father, and it proved entirely successful. Thinking that its pursuer
was coming around on that side the bewildered squirrel edged around in
full view of Running Fox. A moment afterward it fell at his feet with an
arrow through its body.
“Well, Wisawanik knows how to hide, but I fooled him,” laughed Running
Fox, as he held up the prize. “See, Spotted Deer, I have killed a chief
who wears the black robe. Yes, I have done what the medicine creatures
told me to do.”
Running Fox removed the black pelt with great care, and fastened it to
his belt. Then they continued toward the river. As they neared the water
they climbed to the top of a hardwood ridge to reconnoiter. They knew
that they were almost at the end of the Delaware hunting grounds, and
the thought made them cautious.
“Pretty soon we will enter the country of our enemies,” said Running
Fox. “Many of our people have been killed in that country. We must be
very watchful.”
“We will be as sharp as Woakus, the fox,” replied Spotted Deer.
They were able to see a long way up and down the river from the top of
the ridge, and they studied the water with great care. However, as they
failed to discover anything to arouse their suspicions, they soon
resumed their way into the north. The day was more than half gone when
Running Fox suddenly stopped, and pointed to a high rocky cliff on the
opposite side of the river, and then to a massive dead pine directly
ahead of them.
“Do you see that high rocky place over there?” he inquired, turning to
Spotted Deer.
“Yes, I see it,” replied Spotted Deer.
“Do you see that big tree ahead of us?”
“Yes, I see it.”
“Well, we have reached the beginning of the great Iroquois hunting
grounds,” declared Running Fox. “It begins over there on that side where
you see those rocks, and it begins on this side where you see that big
tree ahead of us. Do you know anything about those rocks?”
“No, I do not know about them,” replied Spotted Deer.
“Well, I will tell you about something that happened there,” said
Running Fox. “I will tell it just as my father told it to me. Our people
call that place Laktschellan, which means the-jumping-over-place. Now I
will tell you how it got that name. A long time ago a Delaware hunter
was chased up on those rocks by some Mohawks. Well, when they saw him up
there they began to laugh because they thought he could not get away.
Pretty soon they heard him calling down to them. He told them that he
was going to jump down into the water. Well, when they heard that they
began to laugh some more, because they thought he would surely be
killed. Then some of the Mohawks began to climb up the rocks. When the
Delaware saw them coming he gave a loud shout and jumped away from the
rocks. He made a great noise when he fell into the water, and a white
cloud flew high up into the air. Well, the Mohawks began to watch the
water. They watched a long time, but he never appeared. Then they
thought he was dead. Some of them began to jump into the water to find
his body. Well, while they were doing that the Delaware was hiding in
the bushes a little way off. He was laughing about how he had fooled the
Mohawks. He waited there until the Mohawks got tired and went away. Then
he ran to the Delaware camp, and told what he had done. The name of that
brave man was Striking Hawk, and he lived a very long time ago.”
“That is a good thing to know about,” declared Spotted Deer. “Whenever I
pass that place I will always think about that brave hunter.”
A few moments afterwards the lads entered the hunting grounds of their
foes. The real war-journey had actually begun. The thought thrilled
them. Still they were serious and thoughtful. They knew that many foes
lurked in the vast wilderness which they were about to explore, and they
realized the difficulty of avoiding them. Besides the Mohawks there were
several other tribes of the great Iroquois nation who wandered into that
country to hunt and fish with their tribesmen. These visitors were
mostly Oneidas and Onondagas, whose villages were comparatively near the
Mohawks, but the fierce Cayugas and the still fiercer Senecas
occasionally came from the lakes and mountains far away toward the
setting sun. Then there were also the Shawnees, who frequently ventured
into the Iroquois country in large numbers. Such an array of enemies
might have made the most courageous warrior hesitate about entering that
perilous region, and the young Delawares knew that they must keep
constantly alert to their danger if they hoped to escape.
The lads continued along the river until near the end of the day, and
then they turned deeper into the forest to find a safe hiding place in
which to spend the night. They were making their way carefully over a
rocky piece of ground covered with blueberry bushes, when they heard a
loud buzzing sound close beside them.
“Hi, that is Wischalowe, the Frightener,” cried Running Fox.
They recognized the sound as the angry buzzing of a rattlesnake. It
seemed to be in a dense thicket of blueberry bushes, The lads realized
that they must approach it with caution, for they knew that its bite was
very deadly. Running Fox picked up several stones, and advanced
carefully into the thicket. When he came near the sound he stopped and
looked for the snake. At last he saw it several bow-lengths ahead of
him. It was coiled to strike.
“Hi, Wischalowe, I have found you,” cried Running Fox. “You look very
ugly. Yes, you are called ‘The Frightener.’ Well, I am not afraid of
you. Your war-cry does not frighten me. I have killed some of your
people. Now I am going to kill you. But I am going to give you a chance
to fight. Come, let me see how brave you are.”
Running Fox advanced directly toward the angry snake. He parted the
bushes carefully with his bow, and walked almost within bow-length. Then
he stopped, and continued to taunt Wischalowe. However, the rattlesnake
made no attempt to strike, and Running Fox tossed one of the stones
within a hand-breadth of it. The snake instantly lowered its head and
flattened its body against the ground—it was evidently about to strike.
Running Fox advanced a step nearer, and the snake uncoiled two-thirds of
its body and struck at him. He saw the ugly open mouth and the deadly
fangs as he sprang aside.
“Well, Wischalowe, you are very slow, like an old man,” laughed Running
Fox. “Yes, I see that you are very mad about it. You are making a great
noise. Perhaps it would frighten the women and children. Is that how you
got your name? Well, Wischalowe, this will be your last song. Now I am
going to kill you.”
However, as Running Fox threw the rock the snake struck, and he missed
it. Then to his surprise the snake partially coiled and struck again. It
was an unexpected maneuver, and the reckless young Delaware barely
escaped. He struck savagely with his bow, and hit the reptile a stunning
blow behind the head. Before it recovered he stooped and crushed it with
his war-club. Then he cut the string of bony scales, or rattles, from,
the end of its tail.
“Well, that was an easy fight,” laughed Running Fox, as he rejoined
Spotted Deer. “Wischalowe tried to frighten us, and now I have killed
him.”
“Wisehalowe was foolish,” replied Spotted Deer.
At the end of the day they stopped for the night beside a splendid
little woodland spring, in the midst of a wonderful forest of towering
hemlocks. The trees were so large and stood so close together that
perpetual twilight reigned beneath them. Night came swiftly after sunset
in that dense stand of timber, and the lads missed the cheery glow of
the little camp-fire, for they believed that it would be foolhardy to
run the risk of lighting it. They sat close together in the darkness,
therefore, conversing in low, guarded tones and listening anxiously at
the slightest sound. However, the great wilderness was unusually still,
and they heard only the night wind whispering softly in the tree-tops.
“Schawanachen, the warm wind, is singing the sleep song,” said Running
Fox.
“It is a pretty song,” replied Spotted Deer. “Come, we will pile up some
of this long grass, and let Schawanachen sing us to sleep.”
They gathered several armfuls of the long feathery ferns that grew in
great abundance at that spot, and made couches of them. Then they
wrapped themselves in their robes and lay down to sleep.
“Perhaps it would be a good thing for one of us to watch,” suggested
Running Fox.
“No, I do not believe we are in any danger here,” said Spotted Deer. “We
have not seen or heard anything to trouble us.”
“That is true,” agreed Running Fox. “Well, we will not do anything about
it.”
They had not been long asleep when Running Fox awakened with a feeling
that all was not well. He raised himself cautiously upon his elbow, and
spent many moments looking and listening for signs of danger. Spotted
Deer was slumbering soundly, and Running Fox determined not to awaken
him unless he discovered something to verify his uneasiness.
“This is a strange thing,” Running Fox whispered to himself. “I do not
see anything, and I do not hear anything, but I feel something wrong. I
believe we are in some kind of danger. Well, I will watch.”
For a long time, however, he found no reason for his suspicions. Still
the peculiar premonition of danger persisted. It troubled him. He
believed it was a warning from Getanittowit, and yet he did not know how
to interpret it. Then he thought he heard something moving through the
ferns. He held his breath to listen, but the silence was unbroken. At
last, convinced that his fears were groundless, Running Fox again lay
down to sleep. He had barely closed his eyes, however, when he was
roused by the same stealthy sound in the ferns.
“Now I know that something is wrong,” Running Fox told himself.
As he sat up and stared anxiously into the night he again heard the
gentle rustling of the ferns. For a moment he wondered if it might not
be the wind. All was still, however, and even the murmurs in the
tree-tops had died away. Running Fox felt that he was being watched. A
few moments later his suspicions were verified, as a pair of glowing
eyes shone from the darkness. Aware that they were threatened by some
savage prowler of the wilderness, Running Fox leaned over and touched
Spotted Deer.
“Do not make any noise,” cautioned Running Fox, as Spotted Deer
awakened.
“What has happened?” Spotted Deer inquired, anxiously.
“I do not know what it is, but something is watching us,” declared
Running Fox. “Yes, I heard it, and I saw its eyes.”
“Perhaps the wolves have followed us,” whispered Spotted Deer.
“No, it is something different,” replied Running Fox. “Listen.”
They heard something circling softly about them through the ferns. Then
they caught the momentary flash of a pair of eyes. The next instant they
vanished, and a twig snapped somewhere within bow-shot.
“I believe it is Timmeu, the wolf,” declared Spotted Deer. “Perhaps he
has come back to fight us.”
“No, it is not Timmeu,” replied Running Fox. “The eyes are different,
and this thing moves slower.”
They heard a low growl, like that of an angry dog. Then they again saw
the weird shining eyes watching them.
“Perhaps some Evil Spirit lives in this place,” Spotted Deer suggested,
uneasily.
“No, I do not believe it,” Running Fox assured him. “I believe it is
Quenischquney, the panther. Yes, it is the sound I heard in my dream.
Now I will tell you what to do. I will shoot my arrow. Then if
Quenisehquney jumps in to fight you must send your arrow into him. By
that time I will be ready with another arrow.”
“I am ready,” said Spotted Deer. “See, there are his eyes. He sounds
mad.”
Running Fox discharged his arrow. They heard it strike, and then a
terrifying scream rang through the night. A moment later a long dark
form crouched before them. They heard the tail swishing rapidly among
the ferns, and read a warning in the flashing eyes.
“Do something!” cried Running Fox, as he prepared another arrow.
Spotted Deer had hesitated an instant too long, and as he released his
bow-string the panther sprang. It missed him by less than a bow-length,
and disappeared into the night. They heard it coughing and snarling, and
thrashing about in the ferns. Then it suddenly became quiet.
“It is dead,” said Spotted Deer.
“Perhaps,” replied Running Fox. “Quenischquney is very cute, we must be
careful.”
They watched anxiously, but the eyes failed to appear. Then, as the
silence continued, Running Fox began to grow uneasy. He feared that the
panther might have sneaked away, and the possibility made him reckless.
“I do not like this,” he told Spotted Deer. “Perhaps, as you say,
Quenischquney is dead. But perhaps he has sneaked away. That would be
very bad. I must follow him and kill him. Yes, I must take his claws,
and wear them as the mysterious Medicine Creatures told me to do. If I
do not obey them something bad may happen to us. Now I am going over
there to find out if Quenischquney is dead.”
“That is a very dangerous thing to do,” protested Spotted Deer.
“Well, I cannot help it,” replied Running Fox. “I must not let
Quenischquney get away.”
“I will go with you,” proposed Spotted Deer.
They waited some moments, watching and listening for a clue to the
whereabouts of the wounded panther. Then, as the baffling silence
continued, they advanced cautiously toward the place where they had last
seen the glare of its eyes. They went forward very slowly, about a
bow-length apart. It was very dark, and they realized that they must
depend more upon their ears than their eyes to warn them of danger.
After every third or fourth stride, therefore, they stopped to listen,
while they peered anxiously on all sides of them for a tell-tale flash
of those ugly green eyes. However, they neither heard or saw anything of
the animal they sought.
“I believe that fierce Quenischquney is dead,” declared Spotted Deer.
“We must not be too sure,” Running Fox warned him.
He had barely finished speaking when they heard a warning growl directly
ahead of them. They stopped and watched for a chance to shoot their
arrows. The growling continued, and they heard the ferns rustling, but
they were unable to locate the panther. They knew it was close to them,
but for some reason they were unable to discover its eyes. For a moment
they were puzzled. Then Running Fox guessed the truth.
“I know how it is,” he whispered, excitedly. “Quenischquney is crouching
down in the high grass. I believe he is getting ready to jump.”
“Shall I send an arrow over there where we hear him?” asked Spotted
Deer.
Quenischquney himself answered the question, for at that very instant he
made his spring, and bore Spotted Deer to the ground. Running Fox saw a
long black shadow pass before him, heard a short angry snarl, and then
the quick startled voice of Spotted Deer. For an instant the suddenness
of the attack bewildered him. He hesitated a moment to recover his wits,
and then as Spotted Deer called to him he sprang to his assistance.
“O Running Fox! Running Fox!” screamed Spotted Deer.
“Use your knife!” cried Running Fox.
The next instant he was upon the panther. He plunged his flint knife
deep behind the shoulder.
Then, as the infuriated beast turned upon him, he drove an arrow into
its body. Quenischquney leaped, but crashed to the ground within a
bow-length. For some moments he thrashed wildly about in the ferns,
coughing and snarling furiously. Then he became still. The lads
approached cautiously, and saw him lying quietly upon his side. Running
Fox drove another arrow into him, but he failed to move. Then they went
up to him, and saw that he was dead.
“Did Quenischquney do much harm to you?” Running Fox asked Spotted Deer.
“Come over here and let me look at you.”
“No, Quenischquney did not harm me,” Spotted Deer replied, bravely. “I
felt his claws, but I stuck my knife into his throat, and he could not
bite me. Yes, I am bloody, but most of it came from Quenischquney. It is
a good thing you were with me. If I had been alone I might have been
killed.”
Running Fox saw that Spotted Deer had escaped without serious injury. He
had a number of painful gashes on his arms and the upper part of his
body, but Running Fox hurried him to the spring and soon stopped the
bleeding by soaking small pieces of sphagnum moss in the cold water and
inserting it in the wounds.
“Well, you will have some marks on your body to tell about when we get
back to our people,” laughed Running Fox.
“I will tell them how you killed Quenischquney,” replied Spotted Deer.
As Spotted Deer declared that he felt little pain from his injuries,
they returned to the dead panther and cut off the claws. Then they sang
medicine-songs, and danced about the body of Quenischquney until well
along toward the middle of the night.
“Now we will stop,” Running Fox said, finally, “It will soon be light.
Come, we will go back and lie down again.”
“Yes, we can sleep easy, fierce Quenischquney will not trouble us now,”
replied Spotted Deer.