It was a clear star-lit night, and on the placid bosom of the water shone one star larger and brighter than the rest, as if to light him on his way.  But it was all unobserved by the Indian.  He had no eyes, no ears, no senses, except for the crime he was about to commit.  To him, no crime, but a heroic act.  Slowly, and measuring each step as though a thousand ears were listening, he proceeded in the direction of the canoe, untied it, and softly pushed it into the stream.  As he took his seat the dip of his paddle made no sound, and thus, stern as an iron statue, and almost as still, he paddled on.

And now Ohquamehud approached the island.  He stopped his paddle and held his breath, and listened.  Not a living sound was to be heard, not even the cry of a night bird; nothing save the soft flowing of the water against the shore.  Like an eagle circling round and round before he pounces on his quarry, the Indian cautiously paddled around the island.  From one of the windows, before concealed, he saw a light.  Keeping at a distance, so that the rays should not fall upon him, he stole around until he had interposed the hut between himself and its beams.  Then, apparently satisfied there was nothing to be feared, he directed the canoe towards the island, and slowly advanced until its bottom touched the sand, when he sat still and listened again.  Hearing nothing, he left the canoe, and crouching down, crept towards the cabin.  Having reached it, he applied his ear to the side and listened, and again advanced.  Thus slowly proceeding, some little time elapsed before he found himself at the window whence streamed the light.  Without venturing to touch the wooden boards, as if fearful they might communicate a knowledge of his presence, he raised himself almost imperceptibly at the edge of the window, until he obtained a view of the interior.  Holden was sitting at a distance of not more than six feet, near a small table, on which a single candle was burning, and in his lap lay a large opened book, on which his folded hands were resting.  He seemed lost in meditation, gazing into the wood-fire before him, towards which his crossed legs were extended at full length.

The Indian slid his hand down to the lock of the gun, and drew back the trigger.  Cautiously as it was done, he could not prevent a slight clicking sound, which, perhaps, struck the ear of the Solitary, for he turned his head and moved in the chair.  The Indian slunk to the edge of the window, so as to conceal his person from any one within the room, and remained motionless.  Presently he advanced his head, and took another view.  The Solitary had resumed his former position, and was buried in profound thought.  The Indian stepped back a couple of steps, so as to allow the necessary distance between himself and the window, and raised the rifle to his shoulder.