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Running Fox

<h1 id='t1858'>CHAPTER V—WOLVES</h1> The following day found the Delawares too stiff and sore from their battle with the rapids to proceed with their journey. They limped as far as the spot where they had hidden their robes, and made no attempt to go farther. Besides, they had lost a number of their arrows in the river, and they spent the day making others to replace them. Toward evening as Running Fox was stalking several grouse that had alighted in a tree, he suddenly came upon a number of tracks that immediately claimed his attention. Dropping to his knees he examined them with great care. Then he rose and hastened to tell Spotted Deer, whom he had left resting upon a couch of hemlock boughs. “Spotted Deer, if you feel strong enough you must rise and follow me,” said Running Fox. “I have found something to show you.” “I will go,” declared Spotted Deer, rising stiffly to his feet. They soon reached the spot where Running Fox had discovered the tracks, and Spotted Deer examined them with much interest. “This is strange,” he said after a few moments. “These tracks look like the tracks of big dogs. How did they get here? Are we near a camp?” “No, Spotted Deer, these are not dog tracks,” said Running Fox. “That is what I took them for when I first saw them. Then I knew different. These are the tracks of Timmeu, the wolf.” “It is true,” replied Spotted Deer. They noted that the tracks were several days old, and that the trail turned toward the north. It was also apparent that there had been a goodly number of wolves, for the lads saw tracks of various sizes. That night as they sat beside a small fire broiling the grouse which Running Fox had killed their thoughts turned to the wolf pack. “I have heard the hunters tell about those wolves,” said Running Fox. “They are very large and very fierce. They have fought with many of our people. My father killed some of them when he was hunting along the river.” “Why are they down in this country?” inquired Spotted Deer. “This is not the time for them to come down here. I have heard the hunters say that in the time of growing things they travel far beyond the country of the Mohawks.” “What you say is so,” replied Running Fox. “When it is cold our people have found them down near our village. I do not know how they come to be here now.” “Perhaps we shall see them,” Spotted Deer suggested, hopefully. “No, I do not believe it,” said Running Fox. The next day they resumed their journey at daylight. They had quite recovered from their trip through the rapids, and excepting a few minor cuts and bruises showed little evidence of the rough treatment which they had received from the river. They felt that they had escaped with a very light penalty for their foolishness, and they were very grateful to Getanittowit. However, they agreed that they would be more careful in the future. “Pretty soon we will come to dangerous country,” said Spotted Deer, as they continued up the river. “Yes, we must keep a sharp watch for our enemies,” replied Running Fox. They traveled through a splendid forest of massive oaks and chestnuts, and they saw many signs of game. At one place they again saw wolf tracks, but they were many days old and the lads gave them little thought. Then they came upon a well-worn trail leading away from the river, and as it showed fresh deer tracks they determined to follow it. It soon led them to a shallow pool in the center of an open marshy swale. From the numberless footprints, and the manner in which the ground had been pawed, they knew at once that the place was a natural salt-lick. They also knew that animals of all sorts frequented such places, and as the day was less than half spent they determined to spend some time watching for game. “Perhaps we shall see some of the creatures that appeared in my dream,” said Running Fox. The wish was soon gratified, for they had barely concealed themselves at the edge of the woods when they heard something approaching. They watched closely, and in a few moments a splendid buck appeared on the border of the marsh. “Achtu,” whispered Spotted Deer. “Sh,” cautioned Running Fox, as he prepared an arrow. The wind was in their favor, and they had little fear of being discovered. The deer made a splendid picture as it stood silhouetted against the vivid green background of the forest. It was a big, graceful creature, with horns still sheathed in the soft moss-like covering which protects them until they complete their growth in the autumn. The buck spent some moments listening, and sniffing for signs of danger. Then, satisfied that all was well, he started toward the pool. At that moment, however, the wind veered and brought him the danger scent. For one fleeting instant he halted with his head raised in alarm. Then, having located the danger, he wheeled and sprang toward shelter. Two arrows sped after him. One flew high and stuck in a sapling, but the other buried itself in his side. Then with a great bound he disappeared into the woods. The lads heard him crashing away in mad flight, and they looked at each other with disgust. “That was bad work,” said Running Fox. “I was not ready. The wind fooled us.” “My arrow is sticking in that tree,” laughed Spotted Deer. “Well, we must follow him,” declared Running Fox. “My arrow struck too far back, but perhaps it will make him lie down.” They hastened to the spot where the buck had disappeared, and found a number of large red splashes upon the leaves. It was evident that the deer had been hard hit, and they started hopefully on the trail. The buck was traveling in great bounds, and bleeding freely. It was not long, however, before they noticed that he was slackening his speed. “We will soon come up with him,” said Running Fox. Both lads were well experienced in the art of deer hunting, and they instantly recognized the unmistakable signs that promised an early collapse. They hurried along the trail, therefore, with high hopes of overtaking their quarry before the end of the day. The tracks led them into a vast hemlock swamp, and they advanced with great caution, for it looked like an ideal hiding place for the wounded buck. They soon saw that the deer had begun to walk, and at one place they saw that it had stopped as if preparing to lie down. It had gone on, however, and the lads hurried after it, keeping a sharp watch on all sides lest it should suddenly spring from cover and escape. As they penetrated into the gloomy depths of the swamp they saw many fresh tracks of lynx, and foxes and rabbits, but they paid little attention to them for they knew from experience that it was only by constant vigilance that they could hope to overtake and surprise the animal they sought. “See, he is growing weak,” said Running Fox, as he pointed to a place in the trail which indicated that the buck had stumbled awkwardly over a log that lay in his path. Then they saw him lying under a spruce a short distance ahead of them. The buck saw them at the same instant, and struggled to his feet. Running Fox shot his arrow and scored another hit, but as Spotted Deer released his bow-string the buck dashed between the trees and vanished from sight. “He will not run so far this time,” prophesied Running Fox. The trail turned off at a sharp angle, and soon brought them to the edge of the swamp. They followed it through the woods to a pretty woodland stream, and there they found the buck lying dead beside the water. “Well, I have done what the great medicine deer told me to do,” said Running Fox. “It is good,” replied Spotted Deer. When they finished skinning and quartering the deer the twilight shadows were falling upon the forest, and they decided to spend the night beside the stream. As they were some distance from the river, they believed it might be safe to make a tiny fire and dry some of the meat to take with them. They worked at the task until long after darkness had fallen. Then, as they wrapped themselves in their robes, and were preparing to sleep, Spotted Deer suddenly sat up and listened anxiously. “What is that?” he asked Running Fox. For a moment or so they heard only the gentle murmuring of the breeze through the tree-tops. Then, far away in the night, they heard a sound that thrilled them. It was the hunting cry of the wolf-pack. They had heard it more than once in the winter near the Delaware village, and they recognized it immediately. “Timmeu has found the blood trail,” said Running Fox. The sounds came from somewhere beyond the swamp, and the lads had little doubt that the wolves were following the trail of the wounded buck. The thought stirred them, for they believed that they were about to have an encounter with the savage brutes about which they had heard so many wonderful tales. The sounds soon united in a wild babel that grew louder and more distinct each moment. “They are coming fast,” said Spotted Deer. “Well, we will wait for them,” declared Running Fox. “Come, we will bring in some brush for the fire, so that we can see them.” They hurried to gather several armfuls of dry wood. Then they raked together the embers of their fire, and fanned them into a flame. By that time it was evident that the wolves were almost through the swamp. They were making a great din, and it seemed as if there were many animals in the pack. The eyes of the Delawares flashed as the wild baying drew nearer. “Now they are getting close,” cried Spotted Deer. “Yes, they have come out of the swamp,” replied Running Fox. The lads had heard enough about that famous pack to feel sure that they would be attacked. Still the possibility failed to alarm them. They felt confident that they would be able to defend themselves, and they were eager for the fight. Then, as they waited anxiously for the wolves to appear, the commotion suddenly ceased. “Perhaps the fire has frightened them away,” Spotted Deer said, regretfully. “No, I do not believe it,” replied Running Fox. “Timmeu is very cautious. Perhaps they saw our fire. Perhaps they found the man scent. They are sneaking up to have a look at us. I have heard my father tell how they do that. We must keep a sharp watch.” They listened anxiously, and peered eagerly into the darkness in the hope of locating the wolves. They felt quite certain that the wily brutes were close at hand endeavoring to learn the strength of their enemies before exposing themselves. For a long time, however, the alert young hunters could find no evidence of them. Then they heard a snarl almost in front of them. A moment afterward a pair of shining green eyes flashed in the darkness. The next instant they were gone. “Come, we must put some brush on the fire,” said Running Fox. As the flames flared up and threw a circle of yellow light some distance into the woods, the lads fitted arrows to their bows and watched for a chance at the wolves. However, it appeared that those crafty beasts were wise enough to keep beyond the glow. The Delawares heard them trotting about through the undergrowth, but they were unable to see them. The caution displayed by the wolves seemed like cowardice to the eager lads who waited impatiently for them to attack, and they began to doubt some of the stories they had heard concerning their ferocity. “These animals are not brave,” sneered Spotted Deer. “Come, let us run out and chase them away.” “That would be a foolish thing to do,” cautioned Running Fox. “We must not take any chances. I believe what we have heard is true. Perhaps they are getting ready to make a big fight. Listen. Do you hear that? It is their war-cry. Now we must be ready.” A long, quavering howl sounded through the night. It was the rallying cry, and it was immediately answered by a wild din from the pack. It was evident that the wolves were growing bolder. They trotted about at the edge of the firelight, and the lads caught fleeting glimpses of dim, shadowy forms slinking through the shadows. “Perhaps they will get brave enough to fight,” laughed Spotted Deer. “They will fight,” Running Fox assured him. The carcass of the deer was between the lads and the wolves, and it appeared that the latter were preparing to fight for possession of it. Still, it was some time before they grew hold enough to expose themselves in the firelight. At last, however, one great wolf more reckless than its companions rushed toward the prize. As it came into the glow Spotted Deer shot his arrow, and the wolf rolled into the hushes, howling dismally. Elated at his success, Spotted Deer raised his voice in the Delaware war-cry. “That was a bad thing to do,” said Running Fox. “Perhaps that will reach the ears of an enemy.” “It is true, Running Fox, I was very foolish,” Spotted Deer acknowledged, guiltily. At that instant the wolves charged in a body, and the lads saw that they would have all the fighting they desired. They killed several of the leaders, and for a moment the others hesitated. Then they divided and formed a circle, and the Delawares realized that they had been surrounded. Once roused to the attack, the wolves showed little fear, and the lads soon found themselves engaged in a desperate encounter. Standing back to back to prevent being attacked from the rear, they fought furiously to keep the ferocious animals from reaching them. More than one wolf was stopped in mid-air as it leaped forward to drag them to the ground. Once Running Fox was compelled to use his war-club to crush the skull of a wolf that had eluded his arrow. A moment later he heard a warning cry from Spotted Deer, and wheeling about he saw the latter borne to earth by a huge wolf that had two arrows sticking in its side. Running Fox drove a third arrow into the fatal spot behind the shoulder, and Spotted Deer leaped to his feet unharmed. Then the wolves suddenly became demoralized, and retreated into the shadows. Spotted Deer was eager to follow them, but Running Fox cautioned against it. “We have had a hard fight, but we have come out of it,” said Running Fox. “If we follow the wolves into the darkness we may be torn to pieces.” “Perhaps that is so,” agreed Spotted Deer. They piled more brush on the fire, and kept a sharp watch for another attack. However, as the time passed and the wolves failed to appear, the lads believed that they had skulked off. Still it was a long time before they dared to leave the fire to recover their arrows from the bodies of the wolves they had killed. While they were engaged in the task they heard savage snarls coming from the darkness, and saw the flash of angry eyes. They realized, therefore, that they were in constant danger of attack by the wounded wolves that had been unable to retreat with the pack. “This is dangerous work,” said Running Fox. “I believe the best thing to do would be to wait until the light comes.” He had barely uttered the warning, however, when a great black form rushed from behind a rock and attacked him. It snapped savagely at his legs, but he jumped aside in time to avoid the cruel white fangs. Then he wheeled at bay. He saw the hateful green eyes glaring at him through the night, and he aimed his arrow a short distance below them. As he released the bow-string the wolf attempted to spring at him, but the arrow plunged deep into its chest and ended its life. After that narrow escape the lads decided to withdraw to the fire. They gathered enough wood to last them through the night, and planned to take turns watching until daylight. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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