“I don’t know much about them, Master George, but from what I’ve heard say from those who do, Indians always comes when they’re not expected, and if you’re to be ready for them you must always be on the watch.”
The overpowering sense of sleep which had made me lose consciousness for a few minutes ceased to trouble me now, and I stood watching eagerly for the time when the moon would rise above the trees, and send its light across the clearing in front of the house. I waited anxiously, for there had been the lurking dread that the Indians might creep up to the garden through the darkness, unseen, and perhaps strike at my father down below before he could be on his guard.
Once the moon was up, I felt that we should have light till daybreak, and with that light a good deal of the shivering dread caused by the darkness would pass away.
It was a long, very long while before the moon reached the tops of the trees, but when it did, the clearing and the gardens seemed to have been transformed. Long shadows, black as velvet, stretched right away, and trees were distorted so that I felt as if I was dreaming of seeing a garden upon which I had never set eyes before.
At last, almost imperceptibly, the moon, well on to its last quarter, appeared above the edge of the forest, and I was in the act of drawing myself back with a feeling of satisfaction that all was safe, when I saw something dark lying close to the shadow cast by a tree.
“Would Indians lie down and crawl?” I whispered.
“More likely to than walk, if all I hear’s true, Master George.”
“Then look there!” I whispered, as I pointed to the dark, shadowy figure.
“Where, lad? I can’t see anything.”
“There; just at the edge of that long, stretched-out shadow.”