We were gathered in a kind of natural and moss-grown rocky pulpit, some thirty feet above the stream, and with an open view down its course to the distant riffles.
Beyond them the river swung southward, walling our view with its flanking palisade of living green.
"We camp here," I said quietly.

"No fire, of course.

Two sentinels--the Night Hawk and the Black-Snake.

The guard will be relieved every two hours.

Wake me at the first change of watch." I laid my watch on a rock where all could see it, and, opening my sack, fished out a bit of dried beef and a handful of parched corn.
Mayaro shared with me on my motioned invitation; the others fell to in their respective and characteristic manners, the Oneidas eating like gentlemen and talking together in their low and musical voices; the Wyandotte gobbling and stuffing his cheeks like a chipmunk.