When a man, we will not say awakes--for the worthy Canadian had not closed his eyes once during the whole of this long watch--but shakes off the torpor into which the silence, darkness, and, above all, the piercing cold of night have plunged him, he requires a few minutes to regain possession of his faculties, and restore perfect lucidity of mind. This was what happened to the hunter; still, long habituated as he had been to desert life, the time was shorter to him than to another, and he was soon as acute and watchful as he had been on the previous evening; he therefore prepared to arouse his comrade, who was still enjoying that good and refreshing sleep which is only shared here below by children and men whose conscience is void of any evil thought--when he suddenly stopped, and began listening anxiously. From the remote depths of the forest, which formed a thick curtain behind his camping-place, the Canadian had heard an inexplicable rumour rise, which increased with every moment, and soon assumed the proportions of hoarsely-rolling thunder. This noise approached nearer; it seemed like sharp and hurried stamping of hoofs, rustling of trees and branches, hoarse bellowing, which had nothing human about it; in short, it was a frightful, inexplicable sound, momentarily growing louder and louder, and yet more confused. Quoniam, startled by the strange noise, was standing, rifle in hand, with his eye fixed on the hunter, ready to act at the first sign, though unable to account for what was occurring, a prey to that instinctive terror which assails the bravest man when he feels himself menaced by a terrible and unknown danger. Several minutes passed thus. "What is to be done?" Tranquil murmured, hesitatingly, as he tried in vain to explore the depths of the forest, and account for what was occurring. All at once a shrill whistle was audible a short distance off. "Ah," Tranquil exclaimed, with a start of joy as he threw up his head, "now I shall know what I have to depend on." And, placing his fingers in his mouth, he imitated the cry of the heron; at the same moment a man bounded from the forest, and with two tiger-like leaps was by the hunter's side. "Wah!" he exclaimed, "What is my brother doing here?" It was Black-deer, the Indian Chief. "I am awaiting you, Chief," the Canadian answered. The Redskin was a man of twenty-six to twenty-seven years of age, of middle height, but admirably proportioned. He wore the great war-garb of his nation, and was painted and armed as if on the war-trail; his face was handsome, his features intelligent, and his whole countenance indicated bravery and kindness. At this moment he seemed suffering from an agitation, the more extraordinary because the Redskins make it a point of honour never to appear affected by any event, however terrible in its nature; his eyes flashed fire, his words were quick and harsh, and his voice had a metallic accent. "Quick," he said, "we have lost too much time already."