A mile farther the trail was merged with that of at least twenty horsemen. Phil himself did not doubt that the new Indian camp lay before them. The forest was now heavy with undergrowth here and there, for which he was thankful, since it afforded hiding for Arenberg and himself, while the trail was so broad that they could not possibly miss it. There was another fortunate circumstance. They had been longer on the trail than they had realized, and the twilight was now coming fast. It already lay in deep shadows over the vast, lonely wilderness. Although he was very near, Phil saw Arenberg’s figure enveloped in a sort of black mist, and the horse’s feet made but little sound on the soft snow. At intervals the two stopped to listen, because there was no doubt now in the mind of either that they were close to a large Indian camp. A half hour of this, and they stopped longer than usual. Both distinctly heard a low chant. Arenberg knew that it was the song of Indian women at work. "Phil," he said, "we are close by. Let us leave our horses here and steal forward. We may lose the horses or we may not, but we cannot scout on horseback close up to the Indian camp." Phil did not hesitate. They fastened the horses to swinging boughs in dense thickets, trusting them to the fortune that had been kind thus far, and then crept through the snow and among the frees toward the low sound of the chant. At the edge of a thicket of scrub cedar they knelt down and looked through the snow-laden branches into an Indian village that lay in the valley beyond. It was a broad valley, with a creek now frozen over running through it, and the village, a large one, was evidently not more than a day or two old, as many of the lodges were not yet finished. All these lodges were of buffalo skin on poles, and the squaws were still at work on some of them. Others were beating buffalo meat or deer meat before the cooking fires, and yet others dragged from the snow the dead wood that lay about plentifully. Many warriors were visible here and there amid the background of flame, but they merely lounged, leaving the work to the squaws. "It may be the band of Black Panther," said Phil. "I think it iss," said Arenberg, "but I also think it has been swollen by the addition of another band or two." The two were lying so close under the dwarf pines that Phil’s arm was pressed against Arenberg’s side, and he could feel the German trembling all over. Phil knew perfectly that it was not fear, but a powerful emotion that could thus shake the strong soul of his friend. Evidently the Indians had no thought of a foreign presence in a region so far from any settlement. A feeling of good-humor seemed to pervade the village. It was obvious that they had found game in abundance, and thus the Indian’s greatest want was filled.