Having secured my prize, I crossed the brook, and struck into a winding pathway, which led up the steep bank opposite. I had scarcely left the grove, when upon looking round, I caught sight of a train of figures moving along the top of a ridge, far away to the westward. There were six in it, and they must have been many miles distant. So faint was their outline, and so small did they appear in the vast space that lay open in that direction, that they reminded me of the dim, spectre-like forms of a phantasmagoria. At first I felt a start of joy, for I thought that they might be my companions: but a second reflection convinced me that I was mistaken, for the train was moving along to the northwest—the very reverse of the route to the settlements. Then too the idea flashed across me, that they must be Indians—perhaps hostile ones. Although so distant that there was scarcely a probability of their seeing me, I returned to the grove, where I watched their gliding forms, until they at last sunk behind one of the ridges, and then I pursued my course. In front of me again, was a prairie which had escaped the flame, and was covered with herbage. But though it was pleasing to the eye, I soon began to wish for the black waste; for the tangled grass impeded my steps, and rendered my journey extremely toilsome. I had not accomplished many miles before the sun began to sink in the west. I then determined to travel no farther that night, but take up my quarters in a small clump of trees, which clustered like an island upon the borders of a brook. I collected a pile of dry wood; kindled a fire; made a spit of a green twig, on which I impaled my duck, and stuck it upright in the ground in front of the fire; then stretching myself upon a bed of dry grass, I watched the roasting of my supper with a hungry eye. When I had made a meal with the relish of a half-famished man, I turned upon my bed and fell asleep. After a time I awoke; added fresh fuel to the fire, and stretched myself upon my pallet, again to sleep. It was a bright and beautiful night; the moon was shining amidst myriads of stars, veiled now and then by a light, fleecy cloud, from which she seemed to emerge with increased splendour. I lay gazing at her as she moved along like a queen surrounded by her maids of honour. “Whoop! whoop! whoo!” sounded a loud voice near me. I started to my feet: for I thought that I had heard a human cry; perhaps one of my party, and with a loud hail I answered the sound. “Whoop! whoo! whoo!” again repeated the voice. A gigantic sycamore reared its naked and scathed trunk in the moonlight. At the extremity of a single dry limb, which stretched out from nearly the top of the tree, was seated an owl of the largest species. He repeated the cry which had started me. “Whoop! whoo! whoo!”