th a stately growth of oak and
chestnut, changed suddenly into a sheer and awful mass of rock. On
either side of the stream towered up the mighty walls until, two hundred
feet above the water, they swept together, spanning the chasm with a
majestic arch. Great trees crowned it; trailers of grape and clematis
made the span one emerald; below, through the vast opening, shone the
evening sky with little, rosy clouds floating across it. A bird,
flashing downwards from the far-off trees, showed black against the
carnation of the heavens.

The Indian uttered another "Ugh!" then stole forward a pace or two,
stood still, and waited for the other to come up. "My brother sees," he
said simply.

From a covert of arbor-vitae they looked directly up the creek and
through the archway. Beneath it, and for a few yards on the hither side,
the water flowed in a narrower channel, leaving a little strip of
boulder-strewn shore. With a leap of his heart Landless saw, rising
from this shore, the blue smoke of a newly kindled fire, and squatting
about it, or flitting from place to place, a dozen or more dark figures.
At a little distance from the fire, close against the wall of rock, had
been hastily constructed a rude shed or arbor. As he gazed at this
frail shelter, he saw the flutter of a white gown pass the opening which
served as door.

"Night soon," said Monakatocka at his ear. "Then will my brother see one
Iroquois cheat all these Algonquin dogs."

They drew further back into the dense shade of the overhanging boughs. A
large flat boulder afforded them a secure resting-place, and drawing
their feet from the stream, the two curled themselves up side by side
upon its friendly surface. The Indian took some slices of venison from
his wallet, and they made a slender meal, then set themselves patiently
to await the night and the time for action. The tiny encampment was
hidden from them by the thick boughs, but through the screen of
delicate, aromatic leaves they could see the bridge of rock. Around them
was the stir and murmur of the summer afternoon--the wind in the trees,
the whir of insects, the song of birds, the babble of the water--but far
above, where the great arch cut the sky, the world seemed asleep. The
trees dreamed, resting against the crimson and gold of the heavens. The
Indian's appreciation of the wonders of nature was limited--with a
grunted, "All safe: wake before moonrise," he turned upon his side, and
was asleep.