truth, tells me a man is walking along the crest of the cliff, and
coming on a course parallel with our ravine. My eye does not yet see
him, but soon it will confirm what my ear has already told me. This
deep cleft acts as a trumpet and brings the sound to me."

"How far away, then, would you say is this being, who, I fear, is
mythical?"

"He is not mythical. He is reality. He is yet about three hundred
yards distant. I might not have heard him, even with the aid of the
cleft, but tonight Areskoui has given uncommon power to my ear,
perhaps to aid us, and I know he is walking among thick bushes. I can
hear the branches swish as they fly back into place, after his body
has passed. Ah, a small stick popped as it broke under his foot!"

"I heard nothing."

"That is not my fault, O Dagaeoga. It is a heavy man, because I now
hear his footsteps, even when they do not break anything. He walks
with some uncertainty. Perhaps he fears lest he should make a false
step, and tumble into the ravine."

"Since you can tell so much through hearing, at such a great distance,
perhaps you know what kind of a man the stranger is. A warrior, I
suppose?"

"No, he is not of our race. He would not walk so heavily. It is a
white man."

"One of Rogers' rangers, then? Or maybe it is Rogers himself, or