We finally reached a little grassy hillock, and here the Indian paused. With a wave of his hand he said: "Will the Eagle rest here to-night?" "Yes, my brother," I answered. "It is a fair spot, and here we will stop until the morrow," and turning to the waiting men, I bade them throw aside their baggage and rest. Posting two sentries, I cast myself beside the Indian upon the grass. It had been long since I had taken such a jaunt as this, and my limbs ached from the unaccustomed exertion. The scent of the roasting venison floated up to my nostrils from where the men had lighted a little fire, which, by the direction of the Indian, they had kindled in a low depression, so that it could not be seen by any prowling wanderer. The firelight played upon the rough, bronzed faces of the men, and flashed from their swords and breastplates, flickering upon the fierce features of Manteo as he lay in his paint and feathers by my side, and upon my face as I watched the men. Suddenly the Indian raised his hand and pointed to the west. "Look, my brother," he said. I followed his outstretched finger; there, far away from the depths of the forest, twinkled a tiny light like a star, one moment it might be seen, and then it would be lost for an instant--then lo! as we looked it would rise again. "What is it, Manteo?" I asked in surprise. "'Tis the signal fire of some scout," he answered. "It may be that the natives have discovered that we are advancing into their country, and even now they send the news to their friends." Only the cry of some wild beast of prey echoed from the forest, and anon the mournful call of some strange bird. We were alone, cut off from all civilization and the world. I looked around me; of how many bloody struggles could not these dark glades tell, could they but speak; how many black and gloomy secrets of war and massacre. They had looked down for countless ages upon the roaming red man, and the wild animals of the forest, but never until now had they been trodden by the foot of civilized man. The cheery shout of the men floated up to where we lay. They called us to our evening meal, and descending the little hillock, we joined them in their fierce attack upon the smoking venison. After we had eaten our fill, Manteo and myself, lighting our pipes, strode out in the moonlight; below us trickled a little spring, its waters clear as crystal, and I followed the Indian down to drink of its pure waters. He was bending over the moist earth in front of the spring, looking down at the ground intently. "What is it, Manteo?" I asked, noticing his strange conduct. "It is the foot of some white squaw," he answered arising. "Let my brother look."