several minutes the Indian stood as motionless as the trees around him.
Then picking up the fish, he glided silently forward, and reaching the
pine, he fastened them to the embedded arrow. This done, he cast a
quick glance toward the still form near at hand, turned and moved
swiftly away. In another minute he had recovered his weapons, and
disappeared in the depths of the great gloomy forest.




CHAPTER VII

OUT OF THE STORM

Early the next morning Old Mammy drew back the flap of the tent,
stepped outside, and waddled over to where she had prepared supper the
previous evening. She had always prided herself upon being the first
to rise, and she was determined that she would continue the custom here
in the wilderness.

The sun had just risen above the far off eastern horizon, and was
struggling to disentangle itself from the drifting tresses of fog
hanging in massy banks over the river. Slowly but surely it slipped
away from each misty, tremulous embrace, and then like a giant
refreshed by the encounter assumed the offensive. Before the mighty
champion's silent fiery darts the surging foggy battalions wavered,
loosened their hold on river and land, and broke in utter confusion.
Wildly they scattered and fled, but escape they could not, and ere long
not the slightest vestige remained of their once proud ranks.