the moon would be below the elbow of the mountain and his chance of getting away unseen would be better.
After a while he lay down where he was, against the side of the wigwam, resolved to snatch what sleep he might before the time for action came, if come it should. For a time he lay and watched the silver stars and strove to close his ears to the throbbing of the drums and the howling of the Indians. Gradually sleep settled over his tired body and his breathing grew deep and slow. An hour of the hot, breathless night passed. Occasionally the sleeper stirred or moaned, but he did not wake. And so it was that he did not hear the faint, stealthy movements that might have attracted his attention had he been awake. From behind the wigwam they came, sounds like the soft squirming of a serpent across the tufts of sun-parched grass and through the low patches of briars, sounds no louder than a weasel might have made, and that, subdued by the noise of the drums and the dancers, might well have escaped any save the keenest ears. Behind the wigwam, away from the dancing, flickering light of the fire, the darkness was not black, but yet was deep enough to render uncertain
