Surely the hunter was right when he said there was little danger. He did not know from what point in so much blackness and loneliness could danger be apprehended, but he believed, nevertheless, that danger was near. The whistling of the bitter wind seemed to him sinister and threatening, and yet a wind was only a wind. It must be circumstances going before that had given it that threat. He knew the mind could be so prepared by events that it became a sensitive plate, receiving upon its surface impressions that were, in reality, warnings. Stronger and shriller grew the wind, and stronger and shriller was its warning. He had been lying upon his side with his rifle thrust forward, and now he sat up. Some unknown sense within him had taken cognizance of a threatening note. Listening intently he heard only the wind, but the wind itself seemed always to bear a menace on its front. He rose to his knees, and used all his powers of eye and ear. The animals did not stir, and the hunter and the Little Giant slept in deep peace. Yet Will's own pulses were beating hard. He began to denounce himself as one who took alarm because of the darkness and desolation, but it did not make his pulses grow quiet. Still keeping his rifle ready for instant use, he crawled noiselessly toward the edge of the ledge, which was not more than twenty feet away. Half the distance, and he stopped suddenly, because his ears had distinctly brought to him a light sound, as if a pebble had fallen. Will was not a son of the wilderness by birth, but he was fast becoming one of its adopted children, making its ways second nature, and, when the light note of the falling pebble was registered upon his ear, he flattened himself upon the ground, thrusting forward a little the muzzle of his rifle. It is doubtful if the keen eyes of a trailing Indian could have seen him there in the dark as he waited patiently until such time as a second pebble might fall. The second sound did not come, but the sensitive plate that was his mind registered an impression. Something new and strange appeared upon its surface, and he felt that it was a hostile figure. At last it detached itself from the general dusk, darker and almost formless, and resolved itself into a head, that is a part of a head, from the eyes up. The eyes, set a little near together, were staring intently at the camp, trying to separate it into details, and Will, unseen himself, was able to recognize the eyes and forehead of Felton. He could also trace the glittering gold band around the crown of the wide-brimmed hat that surmounted the head, and, if he had felt any doubts before, the yellow cord would have convinced him that it was the sinister intruder of the morning.