Then, thus loaded, they crept like ghosts or ghouls through the sleeping street of the Indian town, and piled their burdens against the walls of the centre hut, which belonged to the chief.
Twice and thrice was this thing repeated; but Charles remained posted beside the door of the house, working in a strange and mysterious fashion at the entrance.

Upon his face was a strange, set smile.

Now and again he shook his clinched hand towards the heavens, as though invoking the aid or the wrath of the Deity.
The bold little band were in imminent peril.

One accidental slip or fall, an unguarded word, an involuntary cough, and the lives of the whole party might pay the forfeit.

They were in the heart of an Indian village, enemies and spies.