The Indian who bore the torch was now within a few feet of them—another step, and the light must have shone in the cavity of the tree—another step, and discovery would have been inevitable. His foot was raised, his body advanced, but before the step was taken, the deadly rattle of a snake was heard, proceeding directly from the root of the tree. At the sound of the rattle, Rolfe started and drew up his feet; Earth pinched him into silence, and the Indian, recoiling at the well known sound, jumped back, pronouncing the word “achgook! achgook!” meaning, “snake! snake!” then filing off, he made a circuit to the right. It was a moment of wild and fearful excitement, as the Indians each approached the tree, and filed off. Death seemed already to have encircled the hunters in his icy fetters, yet the last of the band passed on, and all was safe.—“Thank God,” said Earth, “we are still alive.” “I don't know that,” said Rolfe, shuddering; “where is that snake?” “There is no snake here.” “I certainly heard one.” “No;—don't you recollect my killing a snake yesterday, and cutting off the rattles?” “Yes.” “Well, I was the snake just now, I made the noise. There are many of the Ingen tribes who will not disturb a rattle-snake; they say it is as harmless as a lamb, for that it never attacks, and even when about to strike in its own defence, always gives warning that you may get out of its way. On this account, they avoid it, and when found, turn from its path. This was all that saved us just now.” “My thanks to you, Earth, it was a bright thought. Is there not something noble about the rattle snake. I like the motto, ‘don't tread on me.’” “Come,” said Earth, stepping out of the tree, and peeping round, “there they go, eight in number; see those hindmost how they are loaded with plunder. Rolfe, I fear we can do nothing.” “But we must do something, Earth; let us follow on and wait a chance.” “Recollect,” said Earth, “we are in their country, and must be cautious:—we may follow them through the night, for their torch will be of more service to us, than to them; yet, when morning comes, if we have done nothing, we must return.” “To spread the tidings?” “Yes, certainly.” “But, Earth,” said Rolfe, “they profess to be at peace, and surely would not add another crime to the one just committed.” “Yes, they will do any thing,” said Earth, “never put any trust in one if you can help it.” “Well, Earth, tell me where do you think they are going?” “That is more than I can tell,” said Earth, “you know that large numbers are constantly gathering upon the Wabash to see their new made prophet, and these may be hurrying on there, like a parcel of 'coon dogs on a warm trail. But this looks mightily like some of Tecumseh's work.” “How? What do you mean by Tecumseh's work?”