precaution in his further approach, the nearer he came to his enemy.
With this view, he moved slowly, carefully avoiding stepping on any
dry sticks or fallen branches, and stopping if, by any chance, he
made the slightest noise. One would have supposed such extreme caution
unnecessary, for so loud was the incessant roar of the cataract, that
where the Indian stood the keenest hearing could not, even within a
few rods, have detected the noise made by walking. It is probable that
habit, quite as much as reflection, determined the proceeding of the
Indian.

With stealthy tread, creeping like the catamount of his native
forests, when he is about to leap upon his prey, the wily and
revengeful Indian stole along, holding his rifle in his hand, while
each sense was quickened and strained to the utmost. The wood extended
quite to the margin of the Falls, so that he was enabled to come near
without exposing his person. At length, from behind a large oak, one
of the original Sachems of the wood, he beheld his foe. Holden was
unarmed, for though, at certain times of the year, when game was in
season, he often carried a gun, it was not an uniform practice with
him. He stood, unconscious of danger, with his back to the Indian, his
arms folded, and gazing upon the water, that roared and tumbled below.
The eyes of Ohquamehud gleamed with ferocious satisfaction as he
beheld his foe in his power. Thrice he raised the rifle to his
shoulder, after carefully examining the priming, and as often let
the butt slide gently to the ground, pausing a little while each time
between, and never taking his eyes off the victim. This conduct might
be mistaken for irresolution. Far from it. The fell purpose of the
savage never burnt more intensely; his hatred was never more bitter;
and he was debating with himself whether to shoot the Solitary as he
stood, nor allow him to know his destroyer, or to rouse him to his
peril, to play with his agonies, and thus give him a foretaste of
death. Holden was at a distance of not more than fifty feet; before
him were the precipice and the Falls, behind him was the Indian; there
was no retreat. The fiendish desire agitating Ohquamehud was the same
as that which the savages feel when they torture a prisoner at the
stake, and delay the fatal stroke that is a mercy. He felt sure of his
prey, and after a short period of hesitation, determined to gratify
the diabolical passion.

He stepped softly from behind the oak,