The time passed on, and the nest in the snow was very comfortable indeed. The woods were still full of those ghostly rustlings, but after a while Dick ceased to notice them, and it is probable that he was asleep. But whether he was asleep or not, about midnight he roused quickly enough, with the instinct that someone was near him. Owing to his wild training, he had enough of the savage in him to lie perfectly still and listen for several minutes before moving. The noise that must have awakened him was not repeated, but there seemed to be an increase in those faint, ghostly rustlings and whisperings and half-heard stealthy footfalls, so at last he climbed reluctantly out of his cosy nest and built up all the fires. Having done this, he settled himself once more in the blanket-lined hollow. The fires were now beds of leaping flame beneath the bubbling kettles of sap, and the shifting light made it difficult to distinguish objects at a little distance. But Dick had sharp eyes; and soon he had gained the knowledge that someone, he knew not who, was crouching on the opposite side of the fire nearest his nest in the snow! It was disturbing knowledge, for he knew it was not one of his comrades; but no one could have accused Dick of physical cowardice, and immediately he tiptoed round the fire to investigate, with a heart that beat a little faster than usual. The crouching figure glanced up at him with eyes that shone like a wild animal's in the glow of the fire, and Dick, thrilling suddenly, recognised Peter Many-Names. The Indian did not give him the usual greeting, but remained crouched as he was, staring across the fire into the black mystery of the forest. His dark face was shaken with some strange excitement, and his eyes gleamed green like a wolfs behind their grey. He seemed to be in one of those states of wild exaltation to which his race is liable; and as he crouched there, he rocked himself backwards and forwards in a sort of ecstasy. "I-i-o-i-o-o, I-i-o, I-o-o, I-e-e!" he crooned over and over again, and at each repetition his eyes shone more wildly. He seemed unconscious of Dick's presence after the first glance, and gave himself up to his own mad mood and the odd charm of his wild chant. Dick's nerves tingled. There seemed to be some curious rhythmic infection in the whole unexpected performance. The rocking, the swaying, the subdued, incessant crooning were fascinating him, just as they might fascinate and excite a young brave at his antelope dances. After a few minutes he fancied he felt his own senses urging him to join in the monotonous, mesmeric swaying, the soft barbaric chant. The suggestion fairly frightened him, and he dropped his hand heavily on the Indian's shoulder.