At length he
came to the brow of a rock that overhung a small dell, from whence the
light proceeded. It was from a fire at the foot of a great tree, that
stood in the midst of a grassy interval, or plat, among the rocks. The
fire cast up a red glare among the gray crags and impending trees;
leaving chasms of deep gloom, that resembled entrances to caverns. A
small brook rippled close by, betrayed by the quivering reflection of
the flame. There were two figures moving about the fire, and others
squatted before it. As they were between him and the light, they were
in complete shadow; but one of them happening to move round to the
opposite side, Dolph was startled at perceiving, by the full glare
falling on painted features, and glittering on silver ornaments, that
he was an Indian. He now looked more narrowly, and saw guns leaning
against a tree, and a dead body lying on the ground.
Dolph began to doubt whether he was not in a worse condition than
before; here was the very foe that had fired at him from the glen. He
endeavoured to retreat quietly, not caring to entrust himself to these
half-human beings in so savage and lonely a place. It was too late:
the Indian, with that eagle quickness of eye so remarkable in his
race, perceived something stirring among the bushes on the rock: he
seized one of the guns that leaned against the tree; one moment more,
and Dolph might have had his passion for adventure cured by a bullet.
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