The hour of rest passed slowly away; and, at its end, the captain again gave the word, to mount and follow. There was now no trail to guide them; but their course was due North, and—led by the stars—Edgar once more put himself in the advance, and galloped away. The prairie was as silent as night and a profound calm could make it; and rolling away down the lowlands, and reverberating along the ridges, the sound of their horses’ footsteps seemed like the rumble of an earthquake. The voices of those who spoke sounded hollow and echoless; and the jingling of spurs, and rattling of accoutrements, seemed smothered by the stillness. The men of that time were taciturn and earnest; and the scene through which they were riding was no bad type of their stern characteristics. They were in pursuit of Indian marauders; and hatred of the savage—which was natural to every Western man—gave depth even to their bearing. Each carried his rifle in his right hand; and, while he governed and assisted his horse over the inequalities of the ground with the left, kept his face steadily directed to the front. They had been riding thus, a little more than two hours, when Edgar suddenly drew up to a walk. “We must take it slowly now, boys,” said he, turning in the saddle, as his men followed his example; “for, at a gallop, our horses could be heard five miles.” “Captain,” said White, riding forward, “isn’t that a light yonder, to the north—here, just above the ground?” “It is, indeed!” exclaimed Edgar; “in the grove, too!” “Rather too far to the right, isn’t it?” said the ranger. “We have been following the Pointers,[7] and their wheeling to the West must have taken us a little out of our course,” Edgar replied. “It must be in the grove.” He turned a little to the right as he spoke; and, urging his horse to his swiftest walk, struck directly for the light. “They must suppose there are no men in the country,” he said thoughtfully; “or else this is only a stratagem to take us out of our way, and gain time.” “They could scarcely have ridden farther than this,” said White; “and if they are not yonder, we are entirely off the trail.” “They must be there,” Edgar replied, decidedly: even as experienced a ranger as he could not but _believe_ what he _wished_. The advance continued—not swiftly, but steadily; for they were now less than two miles from the light, and the tall trees of the grove could be distinguished like shadows against the northern sky. The fire was evidently built within the skirts of the wood, and was now burning brightly, as if replenished with fuel since they had discovered it. Occasionally, it was hid from view—when they descended a slope and entered a hollow; and, sometimes shadows passed across it, as if persons were moving about it.