CHAPTER XLVI.
WHAT SHASTA DID.
The night was still, and the regular tramp of the Indians sounded like the march of a file of soldiers, as they passed over the grass-covered earth. Elwood listened, hardly daring to breathe, as the tread grew fainter, fainter, fainter still, then died out; then was revived by a sigh of the night air, and all was still.
The boy raised his eyes and looked upward. Through the dark clouds drifting tumultuously across the sky he detected the glimmer of a star or two, and in that moment of deep solemnity a passage of the Holy Bible came to him.
"They wandered in the wilderness in a solitary way; they found no city to dwell in."
"Hungry and thirsty, their souls fainted in them."
"When they cried unto the Lord in their trouble, and he delivered them out of their distress."
It came from his heart, and he repeated it over again.
How beautiful! How appropriate to the situation! The tears welled to his eyes, and his heart overflowed at the repeated remembrance of the all-merciful Father, whose eye alone saw him and whose ear alone heard the thankfulness that would find expression.
He fell into a sweet reverie, from which he was awakened by a slight noise below. He leaned his head over the ledge and listened. All at once he heard a soft rush, and the next moment an Indian was holding on to the edge of the tabular-like projection with one hand, while his other was outstretched and placed upon his body.