Then escaping to some distance, he rose, and forming an extensive circuit, began in the same cautious manner to approach the camp on its northern boundary, where was situated the bower of Netnokwa. Having arrived as near as he wished, he stretched himself out and lay, to all appearance, a log upon the ground. Here, that old dame was croning a low ditty; Earth listened with the utmost attention, and endeavoured to catch some of her words, hoping by their import to find out who she was, when suddenly rising up, she left her bower, and as chance would have it, directed her steps towards him. At her approach, Earth involuntary pressed himself closer to the ground, but as Netnokwa had come out to learn the hour of the night, she saw him not. Stopping for a moment, within a few feet of him, she gazed at the stars, read the hour, plain as on the face of a dial, and returned. Soon after this, Earth slipped away, and proceeded with equal caution toward a cabin or hut, which he saw rising up in another direction on the outer border of the camp. Upon coming near this, he personated the body of a blasted tree; stooping low enough to avoid the dark shadows of the forest, you might have seen the outline of its bare limbs in relief on the horizon. These he had picked up as he moved along, and with the addition of the prairie grass which surrounded him, his figure was so much changed as to be scarcely distinguishable. The hut which he had now approached was that of the Prophet, who was chaunting in a wild melody, though in a low and suppressed voice, songs of vengeance.
Here Earth remained a short time, and as bending forward, he listened more eagerly, to catch the Prophet's words; the motion of the tree which he personated was the same as if there had swept over it a gentle breeze. A few moments passed and he disappeared.
There was now a rustling of the prairie grass, and Earthquake, gliding along, seated himself near Rolfe.
“What tidings, Earth?” said Rolfe, in a hurried tone.
“No news of the captive,” said Earth, “and moreover, the camp is quiet.”
“Whose camp is it?”
“The Prophet's.”
“How do you know?”
“From the humbug which hangs over his tent,” said Earth, “and a noise that I heard, which I suppose he intended for a prayer, but it sounded to my ears, very much like the whining of my old bitch Jupiter.”
“What do you mean by humbug over his tent, Earth?”