The last I recall previous to dropping off into deep slumber was how large his shadow loomed, silhouetted in the bright moonshine against a huge black bowlder directly in my front.
I know not the hour, yet I noted, even in awakening, that the moon had already passed from out the narrow ribbon of sky above, although still fringing in silver beauty the sharp summit of the crest, when a quick, nervous pressure upon my arm awoke me with a start of alarm.

Lying at full length, his head uplifted, was De Noyan.
"Keep still, Benteen," he whispered, his voice vibrant with excitement, "and look yonder.

In the name of all the fiends, what is that ?".