He did not move for another hour. Meanwhile the wind rose, driving the
drizzling rain like sleet, and moaning down the gorge. Save for the
Indians crouched around the fire no more desolate scene might have been
witnessed on the continent. The old, primeval world had come back, and
forgotten monsters ranged the woods while man, weaponless save for his
club, crouched in his cave and listened with terror to the snarls of the
great animals, so much more powerful than himself.

It seemed to him then, when the influence of the wilderness and its
immensity and desolation were so strong, that he might have lived in
some such time himself, ages and ages ago. It might have been the
stories of Paul or it might have been some dim heritage from a dimmer
past that made him, as he lay there under the soaking bushes, call up
visions of the great beasts that once stalked the earth, the mammoth and
the mastodon, the cave bear, the saber-toothed tiger, gigantic leopards
and hyenas, and back of them the terrific stegosaurus in his armor-like
hide and all his awful kin. Henry was glad that he had not lived in such
a time.

The fire, even though it was that of men who would gladly scalp him and
torture him to death, brought back the present and the living and
throbbing realities of life. With his rifle he was more than a match for
any beast that roamed the North American wilderness, and in cunning and
craft he could meet the savages at their own game.

Apparently the Indians around the fire had now ceased to talk. They sat
in a circle, bent a little forward, and some had drawn their blankets
over their heads. The fire was a great mass of coals and Henry knew that
it threw out an abundant heat. He envied them a little. He was just
beginning to feel the effects of the cold rain, but their bodies glowed
with warmth.

Meantime the roaring of the wind in the valley was growing and in the
confined space there were many tones in its voice, now a shriek, and now
a howl. In spite of himself the ancient monsters of the primeval world
came back again and these were the sounds they uttered in their rage. He
shuddered a little, then shook himself and by the mere power of will
forced the return of the present.

He reckoned that the time had come for him to make his attempt.
Doubtless the sentinels were on the slope near the mouth of the cleft,
but they must be chilled to some extent by the cold rain, and, after
such a long silence, would naturall