In fact, it was none other than the aged and austere Kamaiakan, who, for reasons best known to himself, chose to spend the hours usually devoted to rest in an attitude that no European or white American could have maintained with comfort longer than five minutes.
An hour--two hours--passed away.

Then Kamaiakan noiselessly arose, peered about him cautiously for a few moments, and passed out of the court-yard through the open gate.

He turned to the left, and, stealing beneath Miriam's windows, paused there for an instant and made certain gestures with his arms.

Anon he continued his way to the garden, and was soon concealed by the thick shrubbery.
History requires us to follow him.

The garden extended westward, and was quite a spacious enclosure: one not familiar with its winding paths might easily lose himself there on a dark night.