without being heard. He would leave it there for use another day
and go on foot through the woods to his comrades.

Slowly he put one foot down the side until it rested on the
bottom, and then he remained still. The chief had paused in his
restless walk back and forth. Could it be possible that he had
heard so slight a sound as that of a human foot sinking softly
into the water? Henry waited with his rifle ready. If necessary
he would fire, and then dart away among the bushes.

Five or six intense moments passed, and the chief resumed his
restless pacing. If he had heard, he had passed it by as
nothing, and Henry raised the other foot out of the canoe. He
was as delicate in his movement as a surgeon mending the human
eye, and he had full cause, as not eye alone, but life as well,
depended upon his success. Both feet now rested upon the muddy
bottom, and he stood there clear of the boat.

The chief did not stop again, and as the fire had burned higher,
his features were disclosed more plainly in his restless walk
back and forth before the flames. Henry took a final look at the
lofty features, contracted now into a frown, then began to wade
among the bushes, pushing his way softly. This was the most
delicate and difficult task of all. The water must not be
allowed to plash around him nor the bushes to rustle as he
passed. Forward he went a yard, then two, five, ten, and his
feet were about to rest upon solid earth, when a stick submerged
in the mud broke under his moccasin with a snap singularly loud
in the silence of the night.