An unaccountable horror suddenly swept over the watching man.  His hair stood straight up; a sensation as of cold stole chillingly over him.  Whether it was the climax of this long night’s excitement, or anticipation of the bloody struggle soon to come, he knew not.  Did this boiling spring, shimmering in the sliver moon-rays, hold in its murky depths a secret?  Did these lonesome, shadowing trees, with their sad drooping branches, harbor a mystery?  If a future tragedy was to be enacted here in this quiet glade, could the murmuring water or leaves whisper its portent?  No; they were only silent, only unintelligible with nature’s mystery.

The waiting man cursed himself for a craven coward; he fought back the benumbing sense; he steeled his heart.  Was this his vaunted willingness to share the Avenger’s danger?  His strong spirit rose up in arms; once more he was brave and fierce.

He fastened a piercing gaze on the plumed guard.  The Indian’s lounging posture against the rock was the same as it had been before, yet now it seemed to have a kind of strained attention.  The savage’s head was poised, like that of a listening deer.  The wary Indian scented danger.

A faint moan breathed low above the sound of gently splashing water somewhere beyond the glade.

“Woo-o-oo.”

The guard’s figure stiffened, and became rigidly erect; his blanket slowly slid to his feet.

“Ah-oo-o,” sighed the soft breeze in the tree tops.

Louder then, with a deep wail, a moan arose out of the dark gray shadows, swelled thrilling on the still air, and died away mournfully.

“Um-m-mmwoo-o-o-o!”

The sentinel’s form melted into the shade.  He was gone like a phantom.

Another Indian rose quickly, and glanced furtively around the glade.  He bent over a comrade and shook him.  Instantly the second Indian was on his feet.  Scarcely had he gained a standing posture when an object, bounding like a dark ball, shot out of the thicket and hurled both warriors to the earth.  A moonbeam glinted upon something bright.  It flashed again on a swift, sweeping circle.  A short, choking yell aroused the other savages.  Up they sprang, alarmed, confused.

The shadow-form darted among them.  It moved with inconceivable rapidity; it became a monster.  Terrible was the convulsive conflict.  Dull blows, the click of steel, angry shouts, agonized yells, and thrashing, wrestling sounds mingled together and half drowned by an awful roar like that of a mad bull.  The strife ceased as suddenly as it had begun.  Warriors lay still on the grass; others writhed in agony.  For an instant a fleeting shadow crossed the open lane leading out of the glade; then it vanished.

Three savages had sprung toward their rifles.  A blinding flash, a loud report burst from the thicket overhead.  The foremost savage sank lifelessly.  The others were intercepted by a giant shadow with brandished rifle.  The watcher on the knoll had entered the glade.  He stood before the stacked rifles and swung his heavy gun.  Crash!  An Indian went down before that sweep, but rose again.  The savages backed away from this threatening figure, and circled around it.