"Fasten the horses there, Juba," he said. "We will wait upon this hilltop
until morning. When the light comes, we may be able to see the clearing or
the smoke from the cabin."

When the horses had been tethered, master and man lay down upon the grass.
It was so still upon the hilltop, and the heavens pressed so closely, that
the slave grew restless and strove to make talk. Failing in this, he began
to croon a savage, mournful air, and presently, forgetting himself, to
sing outright.

"Be quiet!" ordered his master. "There may be Indians abroad."

The song came to an end as abruptly as it lad begun, and the singer,
having nothing better to do, went fast asleep. His companion, more
wakeful, lay with his hands behind his head and his eyes upon the splendor
of the firmament. Lying so, he could not see the valleys nor the looming
mountains. There were only the dome of the sky, the grass, and himself.
He stared at the moon, and made pictures of her shadowy places; then fell
to thinking of the morrow, and of the possibility that after all he might
never find again the cabin in the valley. While he laughed at this
supposition, yet he played with it. He was in a mood to think the loss of
the trail of the expedition no great matter. The woods were full of game,
the waters of fish; he and Juba had only to keep their faces to the
eastward, and a fortnight at most would bring them to the settlements. But
the valleys folded among the hills were many; what if the one he sought
should still elude him? What if the cabin, the sugar-tree, the crystal
stream, had sunk from sight, like the city in one of Monsieur Gralland's
fantastic tales? Perhaps they had done so,--the spot had all the air of a
bit of fairyland,--and the woodland maid was gone to walk with the elves.
Well, perchance for her it would be better so. And yet it would be