Fred took the rifle back from Will.

The chief nodded.

Fred started to follow him, and then the whole tribe sighed, with a sound like the evening wind rustling through the papyrus.
It being clear now that he was to shoot something, Fred took the wrappings off the rifle, threw them to me, and walked into the dark, the chief trotting ahead like a phantom and glancing back to beckon about once a minute.

Not caring to miss the play, we followed in Indian file, I bringing up the rear.
The whole tribe rose at once and flitted along beside us on our landward side.

We could not hear a footfall, or a breath.