For two days the Delawares traveled cautiously through the woods without seeing or hearing anything of their foes. They had little doubt that the Shawnees had turned back. Running Fox was elated at his success.

"It is good," he said. "We have done what we set out to do. Nothing bad has happened to us. We have fooled our enemies. Spotted Deer is alive. My heart feels big."

"Running Fox, you are a good leader," Yellow Wolf told him.

They were less than a day's journey from the great river which flowed past the Delaware camp, and they believed that their peril had passed. Before the end of another day they hoped to be with their people. They knew that a splendid welcome awaited them, and the thought made them eager to reach the camp without delay. They hastened along, unmindful of their fatigue.

The day was nearing its close, and they had stopped for a few moments on the crest of a low, barren ridge to rest, when they suddenly heard a loud, ringing shout within bow-range of them. Before they could recover from their amazement several arrows sped over their heads.

"Run, run!" shouted Running Fox, as he led the way down the ridge.

They dashed madly down the slope, and turned toward a dense spruce swamp that began a short distance from the base of the ridge. Wild shouts behind them gave warning that they were being hotly pursued. Running Fox looked back and saw a strong company of warriors scrambling recklessly down the rocky hillside. One glance was sufficient to recognize them.

"The Mohawks! The Mohawks!" he cried in alarm.

The warning struck fear to the hearts of his companions. They knew the fate that awaited them at the hands of those fierce foes, and they fled before them like frightened deer. They gained the edge of the swamp, and rushed wildly into its gloomy depths. They went a considerable distance before they dared to stop. Then they took shelter behind a barricade of fallen trees, and waited anxiously for the appearance of their foes. The shouts had ceased at the border of the swamp, and the silence increased their fears.

"They are creeping ahead to find us," Painted Hawk whispered.

"Well, we can make a good fight here," Running Fox said, boldly.

The twilight shadows had already fallen in the great forest of spruces, and the Delawares knew that it would soon be dark. The thought gave them hope. Unless the Mohawks tracked them directly to their hiding place, they believed that the night might save them from discovery. They waited in trying suspense, expecting each moment to see the dim, shadowy forms of the Mohawks approaching between the trees. As time passed and they failed to appear, the Delawares began to wonder if they really had stopped at the border of the swamp.

"Perhaps they are afraid to follow us into this place," said Painted Hawk.

"Perhaps they went the other way," Dancing Owl suggested, hopefully.

"My brothers, I believe they are outside," Running Fox told them. "They know we are Delawares. They are cautious. Once we fooled them when they were coming to our camp. Perhaps they took us for scouts. Perhaps they believe we are trying to lead them into a trap. See, it is almost dark. Pretty soon we will be safe."

His words encouraged his friends. Having escaped from the sudden attack, they believed that for the moment at least, they were safe. They began to wonder how the Mohawks had chanced to be in the vicinity.

"I believe it is a war party," said Running Fox.

"Perhaps they are going to fight our people," Turning Eagle said, uneasily.

"No, I do not believe it," Running Fox told him. "They are too far from the river. I believe they are going to fight the Shawnees. I believe those warriors went back and told their people how the Shawnees took away their canoes. Then I believe they made up a war party and came out to fight the Shawnees."

"Yes, I believe that is true," declared Crooked Foot. "I believe they were going to find the Shawnees, and then we came along."

"Well, if that is so, perhaps they will not try to find us," said Dancing Owl.

"My brothers, I have heard you all talking about this thing," said Yellow Wolf. "Now I will tell you how I feel about it. I believe what Running Fox says is true. But I also believe that we are in great danger. The Mohawks are our enemies. Running Fox and Spotted Deer have carried away their great Medicine Bundle. Running Fox has killed their great chief, Standing Wolf. They are thinking about those things. I believe they would like to kill us instead of the Shawnees. Yes, I believe they will try to find us."

The Delawares gave silent endorsement to his words. They believed that they were in greater peril from the Mohawks than they had been from the Shawnees. They had greater respect for the courage and ability of the former, and they knew that if the Mohawks really made a persistent effort to capture them, it would be far more difficult to escape.

"Hi, what I was afraid of has happened," said Yellow Wolf.

The deep, solemn tones of the great-horned owl had sounded from the opposite side of the swamp. It was the favorite signal of the Mohawks and the Delawares knew only too well what it meant. They suddenly realized why the Mohawks had stopped at the edge of the swamp.

"It is bad," Running Fox said, soberly. "The Mohawks have circled around us. Pretty soon they will close in. Then we must watch out."

It was evident that the crafty Mohawks had separated and surrounded the swamp. There seemed little doubt that they would eventually advance from all sides and attempt to drive their enemies from cover. It was a favorite and successful method of securing game, and the Delawares realized that it would be hard to escape from the trap. They listened anxiously to learn if their fears were true. It was not long before they were convinced. The solemn warning of the great-horned owl sounded from the two remaining sides of the swamp. The circle was completed. The Mohawks were ready to advance.

"Lie close, perhaps they will not find us," said Running Fox.

It was a long time before they heard anything to rouse their suspicions. Then they heard soft, guarded signals passing through the night, and they knew that the Mohawks had entered the swamp. They strained their ears to detect the stealthy approach of their foes. Darkness had settled down, and they realized that it would be impossible for the Mohawks to find them unless they blundered directly upon their shelter.

"If they come upon us we must fight them back, and try to get away," said Running Fox.

A few moments afterward they heard a sharp crackling of brush close by. They smiled grimly as they realized that one of the scouts had stumbled into a tangle of dead tree tops. He soon extricated himself, and then they heard nothing more of him. They knew, however, that at any moment he might discover their hiding place. The thought kept them alert. Then, as he failed to find them, they took hope.

"He has passed—it is good," whispered Dancing Owl.

"Sh!" cautioned Running Fox.

He feared that the cunning Mohawk might be listening within bow-length of them. Then they heard the call of the horned owl from the border of the swamp. In a few moments it was answered by one of the scouts. The Delawares felt sure that the main company of their foes was still lurking along the edge of the swamp. The thought alarmed them. They believed that the Mohawks planned to hold them in their hiding place until the night passed. The possibility made escape seem hopeless. Convinced that daylight would make it easy for the Mohawks to find them, they feared that they would soon be overcome and annihilated. The idea startled them. Having survived the perils of their expedition against the Shawnees, they were overwhelmed by the sudden disaster which had overtaken them almost within sight of their village. In the meantime the Mohawks had become quiet, and it was evident that they had abandoned the search and were waiting for the darkness to pass.

"It is bad," said Crooked Foot. "When it gets light, they will come in here and kill us."

"We must fight them off," declared Yellow Wolf.

"Perhaps we can get away before the light comes," proposed Dancing Owl.

"No, it is useless to try to get past them," Running Fox told him. "There are many Mohawks around this place. They are watching sharp. If we try to go out, they will kill us."

Then for a long time they continued silent. Each was trying to think of a way out of the predicament. They suddenly realized that they had rushed recklessly into a trap from which there seemed to be no way of escape. Regrets, however, were futile. They knew it was folly to waste time blaming themselves.

"My brothers, we have done a big thing, we must not die," Yellow Wolf told them. "We must find a way out of this thing."

"It will be hard to get away," said Crooked Foot.

"There is only one thing to do," Running Fox declared, suddenly. "We must hold out until our people come to help us."

"How will they know about it?" Crooked Foot asked, in surprise.

"I will try to go to them," Running Fox said, quietly.

"No, no, you must not do that," Spotted Deer said, anxiously. "You have risked your life to help me. You must not risk your life again. If you try to do this thing, the Mohawks may catch you. If they see who you are, terrible things will happen to you. Come, Running Fox, we will all try to get away. Then if the Mohawks catch us, we will die together."

"Yes, my brother, it is the best way to do," declared Crooked Foot. "Perhaps we will get by them."

"No, my friends, I will not listen to your words," Running Fox declared, firmly. "I believe I can do this thing. I am the leader. I must try to get you out of this."

"Well, Running Fox, if you are going to do this thing I will go with you," Spotted Deer told him.

"No, you cannot do that," said Running Fox. "You must stay here and fight back the Mohawks until I bring our people to help you. Now, my friends, listen sharp to my words. I am going to try to get past the Mohawks. Perhaps it will take me a long time. If the Mohawks catch me, I will make a great shout. If you do not hear it before it gets light, you will know that I got away. Then I will bring a big war party. You must keep strong. Keep fighting back the Mohawks until our people come. Now keep these words. I will not make any signals. If you hear any, you will know that I did not make them. Now I am going."

"My brother, I feel bad about this thing," Spotted Deer said, as he grasped the hand of his friend. "If my legs were fast I would not hold back. I will make a big fight."

"I will come back," Running Fox said, bravely.

Then he left them and vanished into the night as silently as a shadow. He turned toward the eastern side of the swamp, as the nearest course to the Delaware camp lay in that direction. Fully alive to the peril which threatened him, he moved through the darkness with the alert, nervous caution of Achtu, the deer. He stopped many times to listen for his foes. As he neared the edge of the swamp, he turned his face toward the sky and called upon Getanittowit to guide him safely past the watchful Mohawks. Then he heard them somewhere ahead of him. For an instant only he caught the murmur of their voices. It was sufficient to warn him of his peril. He turned sharply from his course and crept away with slow, cautious steps. He went several arrow-flights before he again ventured to approach the edge of the swamp. Once more, however, he heard sounds which drove him back.

"It is bad," he murmured. "The Mohawks are everywhere."

He turned toward the south. Several arrow-flights brought him to the border of the swamp. He stopped to listen. All was silent. The way seemed clear. He hurried forward. A twig snapped sharply beneath his feet. Some one hailed him. He gave several loud snorts to imitate a frightened buck, and bounded noisily through the brush. The Mohawk laughed softly. The trick had deceived him. His suspicions were allayed.

Having passed safely by the Mohawks, Running Fox sped through the night with a light heart. At dawn he climbed to the summit of a high ridge that rose from the west side of the river. Far away to the southward he saw the smoke from the Delaware camp. For some moments he watched it with flashing eyes. Then he raced madly down the ridge. He reached the river a considerable distance below the spot where he had left the canoe of Spotted Deer. He wondered if it would be safe to go up the river in search of it. If the Mohawks had come down the river in canoes, he believed they had left them somewhere near the spot where the Shawnees had kindled the fire. Perhaps scouts had been left behind to watch. The possibility made him hesitate. He knew, however, that the canoe offered him the quickest way to reach his people.

"I will go," he said.

He hurried along at the edge of the timber. It seemed a great distance to the spot where he had found the trail of the Shawnees. When he finally came in sight of the charred logs on the shore, he stopped and looked sharply for signs of his foes. There was no evidence of them. He circled cautiously through the woods, and approached the place where he had concealed the canoe. It had disappeared. He stared in astonishment. Who had found it? He felt quite certain that it had been taken away by the Mohawks. The thought awakened his suspicions. He searched through the bushes in the hope of finding their canoes. His efforts were futile. There were no fresh tracks to indicate that the Mohawk war party had visited the spot.

"It is mysterious," he said.

Running Fox suddenly realized that he was wasting time. The thought roused him. Each moment was precious. The slightest delay might prove fatal to his friends. He looked across the river. It was wide, and deep and swift. For an instant only he hesitated. Then he pushed his bow into its wolf-skin case, and waded boldly into the water. It was bitterly cold, and the shallow pools along the shore were crusted with ice. Unmindful of the shock, Running Fox threw himself forward and began to swim.

A bow-shot from the shore he caught the full force of the current and was borne rapidly down the river. Then as he struggled fiercely to free himself, the chill of the water began to cramp his muscles. For an instant his tired limbs refused to work. Weighted down by his buckskin shirt and breeches, he sank beneath the surface. He fought his way above water, and kicked the cramp from his legs. His strength, however, was rapidly leaving him. The shore seemed very far away. The channel was wider than he had suspected. He appeared unable to escape from the fierce grip of the current. The intense cold was penetrating to his heart. His fingers contracted with cramp. His legs began to drag. His strokes grew steadily weaker. He was losing ground. For an instant he lost hope.

"The fierce Water Monsters will get me!" he cried in dismay.

Then he suddenly thought of his friends. He had pledged himself to save them. They had placed their confidence in him. Getanittowit had listened to his appeal and aided him to escape from the swamp. The way had been made clear for him to reach his people. Now he was throwing away his life, and sacrificing his friends to the Mohawks. He rallied at the thought. The hot fighting blood rushed to his brain. He continued his desperate battle with the river.

"I must live to help my brothers," he said, savagely.

Struggling frantically, he slowly fought his way across the channel. Stroke by stroke, he dragged himself from the clutches of the current. At last he was free. He had reached a long stretch of quiet water. He took courage. His fear of the dreaded Water Monsters suddenly left him. He swam more easily. He fixed his eyes upon the shore. It was less than a bow-shot away. Slowly, steadily, he shortened the distance. Each stroke strengthened his confidence. At last he cautiously lowered his feet. They struck the bed of the river. A few moments afterward he ceased swimming and began to wade. He staggered from the water and made his way to the edge of the woods. Then he collapsed and crumpled into the brush. It was only a few moments before he recovered and struggled to his feet.

"Am I a woman?" he asked himself, fiercely.

He turned, and started along the river. For a short distance he advanced with slow, unsteady strides. Then he fought back his weakness and forced himself into a swifter pace. It was not long before he was again traveling at his best speed.

"I must go fast—there is little time," he kept telling himself.

The Delawares were lighting the evening fires when Running Fox finally tottered into the camp and fell exhausted before the lodge of his father. The Delawares gathered about him in wild alarm. They had little doubt that some great misfortune had overtaken the scouts who had gone to rescue Spotted Deer. They feared that all but Running Fox had been captured or killed.

"Carry him into the lodge," said Black Panther.

When Running Fox opened his eyes he found himself between bear robes, lying beside the fire in his father's lodge. Black Panther and Sky Dog, the Medicine Man, sat near him. For a moment he looked at them in bewilderment. Then he recalled what had happened. He threw off the robes and sat up excitedly.

"Come, my father, call the warriors!" he cried.

"What has happened?" Black Panther asked, calmly.

"The Mohawks have caught our brothers," he told them. "Our brothers are hiding in a big swamp. The Mohawks are all around them. Pretty soon they will rush in and kill them. Spotted Deer is there. We took him away from the Shawnees. Come, call our people. Give me some meat. I must take you back there to help our brothers."

Then, while Running Fox drank great bowls of steaming broth, Black Panther sent a crier through the camp to summon the warriors. A great company gathered before the council lodge. Running Fox rushed wildly from his father's lodge to address them.

"My brothers, there is no time to talk," he cried. "You know what has happened. Come, push your canoes into the water. I will lead you to our brothers."

"This will be a big fight," cried Black Panther, the famous war chief. "If the Mohawks kill our brothers, we will go to the Mohawk village and kill many people. I am your chief. I will lead you."

His words filled the warriors with enthusiasm. They began to dance and sing their war songs. Then they hurried to the river. A few moments later a fleet of canoes moved swiftly away into the twilight. A great war party of Delawares had gone to the aid of their tribesmen.