"You can rely upon me," said the hunter.

The disciplined mind of Tayoga knew how to compel sleep, and on this
occasion it was needful for him to exert his will. In an incredibly
brief time he was pursuing Robert through the gates of sleep to the
blessed land of slumber that lay beyond, and the hunter was left alone
on watch.

Willet, despite his long life in the woods, was a man of cultivation
and refinement. He knew and liked the culture of the cities in its
highest sense. His youth had not been spent in the North American
wilderness. He had tasted the life of London and Paris, and long use
and practice had not blunted his mind to the extraordinary contrasts
between forest and town.

He appreciated now to the full their singular situation, practically
hanging on the side of a mighty cliff, with cruel enemies seeking them
below and equally cruel enemies waiting for them above.

The crevice in which they lay was little more than a dent in the stone
wall. If either of the lads moved a foot and the evergreens failed to
hold him he would go spinning a quarter of a mile straight down to the
lake. The hunter looked anxiously in the dusk at the slender barrier,
but he judged that it would be sufficient to stop any unconscious
movement. Then he glanced at Robert and Tayoga and he was reassured.
They were so tired and sleep had claimed them so completely that they
lay like the dead. Neither stirred a particle, but in the silence the
hunter heard their regular breathing.

The years had not made Willet a skeptic. While he did not accept