and stifling all night, by smothered fires, at early dawn plunged,
perspiring, into the ice-cold river. The heat and smoke were further
utilized to dry and cure the long strips of fish hanging from the roof,
and it was through the narrow aperture that served as a chimney that the
odor escaped which Martin had detected. He knew that as the bathers
only occupied the house from midnight to early morn, it was now probably
empty. He advanced confidently toward it.

He was a little surprised to find that the small open space between it
and the river was occupied by a rude scaffolding, like that on which
certain tribes exposed their dead, but in this instance it only
contained the feathered leggings, fringed blanket, and eagle-plumed
head-dress of some brave. He did not, however, linger in this plainly
visible area, but quickly dropped on all fours and crept into the
interior of the house. Here he completed his feast with the fish, and
warmed his chilled limbs on the embers of the still smouldering fires.
It was while drying his tattered clothes and shoeless feet that he
thought of the dead brave's useless leggings and moccasins, and it
occurred to him that he would be less likely to attract the Indians'
attention from a distance and provoke a ready arrow, if he were
disguised as one of them. Crawling out again, he quickly secured, not
only the leggings, but the blanket and head-dress, and putting them on,
cast his own clothes into the stream. A bolder, more energetic, or more
provident man would have followed the act by quickly making his way
back to the thicket to reconnoitre, taking with him a supply of fish for
future needs. But Elijah Martin succumbed again to the recklessness
of inertia; he yielded once more to the animal instinct of momentary
security. He returned to the interior of the hut, curled himself again
on the ashes, and weakly resolving to sleep until moonrise, and as
weakly hesitating, ended by falling into uneasy but helpless stupor.