them it could, and meanwhile he would do nothing. He moved just a
little to make himself more comfortable and reclined patiently.

Willet was intensely grateful for the little curtain of evergreens.
Without it the sharp eyes of the warriors could detect them even in
the side of the lofty cliff. Only a few bushes stood between them and
torture and death, but they stood there just the same. Time passed
slowly, and the morning remained as brilliant as ever. He paid little
attention to what was passing on the lake, but he listened with all
the power of his hearing for anything that might happen on the cliff
above them. He knew that the warriors were far from giving up the
chase, and he expected a sign there. About two hours after sunrise it
came. He heard the cry of a wolf, and then a like cry replying, but
he knew that the sounds came from the throats of warriors. He pressed
himself a little harder against the stony wall, and looked at his two
young comrades. Their souls still wandered in the pleasant land of
dreams and their bodies took no interest in what was occurring here.
They did not stir.

In four or five minutes the two cries were repeated much nearer
and the hunter fairly concentrated all his powers into the organ of
hearing. Faint voices, only whispers, floated down to him, and he
knew that the warriors were ranging along the cliff just above them.
Leaning forward cautiously, he peeped above the veil of evergreens,
and saw two dark faces gazing over the edge of the precipice. A brief
look was enough, then he drew back and waited.