a brief camp on that wooded hill there."

"Why on a hill, Mr. Willet? Why not in a hollow where it seems to me
we would be better hidden?"

"Because, besides hiding ourselves, we want to see, and you can see
better from a height than from a valley. In the bushes there we'll
have a view all about us, and I don't think our enemies can come
too near, unseen by us. When we get into the thicket on the hill,
Lieutenant, you can resume that pleasant nap that you did not finish.
Eight or ten hours more of sleep will be just the thing for you."

"All of you sleep a while," said Black Rifle. "I'll guard. I'm fresh.
But be sure you walk on the stones. We must leave no trace."

They found a fairly comfortable place in the thicket and soon all were
asleep except Black Rifle, who sat with his rifle between his knees,
and from his covert scanned the forest on all sides.

Black Rifle felt satisfaction. He was pleased to be with the friends
for whom he cared most. An historical figure, solitary, aloof, he was
a vivid personality, yet scarcely anything was known about him. His
right name even had disappeared, and, to the border, far and near he
was just Black Rifle, or Black Jack, a great scout and a terror to the
Indians. In his way, he was fond of Willet, Tayoga and young Lennox,
and he felt also that he would like Grosvenor when he knew him better.
So, while they slept, he watched with a vigilance that nobody save
Tayoga could surpass.

Black Rifle saw the life of the forest go on undisturbed. The birds on
the boughs went about their business, and the little animals worked
or played as usual in the bushes. Everything said to him that no enemy
was near, and his own five senses confirmed it. The afternoon passed,
and, about twilight, Tayoga awoke, but the others slept on.

"Sleep now, Black Rifle," said the Onondaga. "I will take up the
watch."

"I don't feel like closing my eyes just yet, Tayoga," replied the
scout, "and I'll sit a while with you. Nothing has happened. Tandakora
has not been able to find our trail."

"But he will hunt long for it, Black Rifle. When my race hates it
hates well. Tandakora feels his grudge against us. He has tried to do
us much harm and he is grieved because we have not fallen before him.
He blames us for it."

"I know he does. Did you hear something walking in the thicket at the
bottom of the hill?"

"It is only a bear. Perhaps he is looking for a good place in which to
pass the night, but