Bang! bang! bang! came several other reports in quick succession, showing that something serious was going on. Every voice was hushed, and they looked in each other's faces, and then stared at the Mohawk as if they would read the explanation in his painted countenance. At the first glance there was nothing that could give them a clue on those bronzed features, as seen in the early light of the morning. The Indian was also listening and waiting till he could hear and learn more before saying anything. The firing lasted until it sounded as if a skirmish was going on close at hand. Could it be that a party of fugitive patriots was engaged in a fight with a lot of Tories and Indians? When the firing had continued in a desultory way for several minutes, the whites caught the sound of whoops, showing that the redmen had a part in the trouble. The instant these cries fell on the ears of the Mohawk, his dark face lit up with a gleam of satisfaction, the expression of delight being noticed by all. "What is it, Lena-Wingo?" asked Rosa. "Are they Iroquois and white folks that are fighting?" "No, not that." "What then?" "Iroquois fighting Iroquois." So his wish was granted, after all. The warriors had fallen into battle among themselves, with a sure benefit to the fugitives. Hence it was natural that the Mohawk, after being disappointed twice on the preceding night, should listen to the sounds of the strife with genuine pleasure. It looked as if with the coming of daylight the Iroquois had discovered that some of their number had blundered in the hunt for the Mohawk in a way that could not be forgiven. A deadly quarrel was the result, with the certainty that more than one of their bravest warriors would bite the dust before it could be terminated, even by the chiefs and leaders themselves. The fight lasted but a short time, for it was a fierce fire, which must exhaust itself speedily for want of fuel. The Mohawk, however, heard enough to convince him that execution had been done, and his rejoicing was not interfered with through any fear that it had been quieted down as were the other two impending disturbances. But the morning was advancing, and the hours were as precious to the fugitives as to the Iroquois. The probabilities were that the revengeful enemies would soon be on their track, and the whites had but to remain where they were a short time longer to fall into their hands. At the moment the noise of the conflict between the Indians ceased, Lena-Wingo, who had maintained the standing position from the first, moved off in a southerly course, looking around as a signal for his companions to follow him. They were heading toward the range of mountains which bounded the Wyoming valley on the southeast, and which loomed up dark and frowning in the gray mist of the early morning.