“Whoop! whoo! whoo!” responded another from a different quarter, and a dusky bird flitted by, and perched on the long limb beside his companion. I again stretched myself upon my couch and watched them, as they sat between me and the moon. There was a confused jabbering carried on between them: they probably had charge of the grove, and were puzzled, at the intrusion of a stranger. After debating for some time, they concluded to take a nearer view of the intruder, and descended to a lower branch. Here they carried on the debate; apparently wondering who I was, and what I wanted. They rubbed their huge heads together with an air of vast perplexity: they rocked and fluttered on their perch. Occasionally one of them threw his head on one side, and cast a very inquisitive look down upon me; and then a fresh jabbering went on. After about fifteen minutes spent in this way, the two dignitaries giving a farewell “whoop! whoop! whoo!” flapped off and disappeared. Again I turned and fixed my gaze upon the moon. There was a feeling of fellowship connected with it. I knew that other eyes were resting upon her pale orb, and I knew that while she was shining upon my solitary couch, she was at the same time pouring her mellow light, upon the abodes of my friends, far away and unconscious of my situation. Chilled by the night air, I turned away and looked into the fire—forming palaces, groves, and arcades, amid its glowing embers, until gradually my eyes closed, and I slept. When I awoke the sun was shining, and I resumed my solitary journey. I continued on foot from sunrise till sunset, without seeing a living thing, unless, perhaps, a distant deer; and halted for the night, in a forest of thick timber. I found a large, dead sycamore standing upright, with a complete chamber formed in its trunk by decay. I kindled a fire in front of it, and filled the empty trunk with dried grass, and pea-vines for a couch. I was wearied and slept soundly, until near midnight, when I was awakened by the intense heat. The fire had by some means communicated to a pile of fuel, which I had collected to sustain it during the night. This was in a furious blaze, causing the old tree to smoke with the heat. The hollow trunk was no place for me, unless I chose to be roasted. I pulled my cap from my head, and wrapped it round my powder-horn—seized my rifle, and sprang through the fire. The next instant, the flame leaped upon my bed of dried vines, and the whole interior of the dead tree, was in a blaze, that lasted for an instant and then expired. As it was no longer possible to return to it, I seated myself upon a stump, and remained half shivering, half dozing, until morning. CHAPTER XXI. _Wild Turkey.—Squirrel.—Parroquets.—Trail.—Konza Indian.—Night Camp.—Deserted House.—Konza Agency.—Reaching Leavenworth._