Knowing the hunter to be as bloodthirsty as a tiger, Joe had expected he would rush to a combat with his foes; but, no, this man, with his keen sagacity, knew when to creep upon his enemy; he bided that time, and, while he waited, slept.
Joe could not close his eyes in slumber.

Through the interstices in the branches he saw the stars come out one by one, the darkness deepened, and the dim outline of tall trees over the dark hill came out sharply.

The moments dragged, each one an hour.

He heard a whippoorwill call, lonely and dismal; then an owl hoot monotonously.
A stealthy footed animal ran along the log, sniffed at the boughs, and then scurried away over the dry leaves.

By and by the dead silence of night fell over all.