Ben was near the base, close to the mass of upturned roots, which spread out like an enormous fan, with its dirt and prong-like roots projecting in all directions. He was tired, depressed, and worn out. It will be remembered he had not slept a wink during the preceding night, or eaten a mouthful of food since then. Strong, sturdy, and lusty as he was, he could not help feeling the effects of all this. He leaned his rifle against a huge, gnarled root, within arm's length of where he half reclined, with his feet extended along the trunk. He had but to reach out his hand, without moving his body, to grasp the weapon whatever moment it might be needed. Exhausted as he was, his condition was too nervous to permit slumber. His mother had said she thought the end was at hand, and he believed the same. She was but a few feet away, sitting more erect on the tree, with Alice leaning against her. The eyes of all were turned toward the point where Linna had vanished, and whence she was expected every minute to come into view again. She was not far off. Once or twice the mother and son caught the sounds of their voices, though the exuberant vegetation shut them from sight. "It was idle for her to go," said Ben; "and I cannot see any chance of her helping us." "They will not harm her, nor will they be denied the pleasure of doing what they choose with us." "Some persons might believe the delay was favorable, but I cannot think that way." Neither felt like conversation. It was an effort to say anything; but mother and son, in their unselfishness, pitied each other, and strove vainly to lift the gloomy thoughts that were oppressing both. Had Ben Ripley seen the departure of the Seneca, he might have suspected its meaning; but, unaware of it, he never dreamed of the new form which the ever present danger thus assumed. The Seneca, after leaving Red Wolf and the other warrior, walked directly over the path leading away from the stream until well beyond the sight of those thus left behind. He looked back, and, seeing nothing of them, turned aside and moved off, until he arrived at a point beyond the group of three resting on the fallen tree. Thus, as will be seen, the Ripleys were between the two and Linna on the one hand, and the single Seneca on the other. He knew the precise location of the fugitives as well as if they had been in his field of vision from the first. He now began approaching them from the rear. Their faces turned away from him, and everything favored his stealthy advance. The huge spread of dirt and roots made by the overturning of the big tree served as a screen, though even without this help he would probably have succeeded in his effort to steal upon them unawares. He stepped so carefully upon the dried leaves that no sound was made, and the most highly trained ear, therefore, would not have detected him.