A long silence followed the noise; then came the sound of a dozen feet.
Six Indians were filing through the woods directly toward the lake.
To rise and return now would be dangerous, for she could not conceal her footsteps from the keen ear of her foe, and, thinking of the peril that menaced Clearwater, she held her breath and resolved to lie still.
She hugged the tree, as the Indians approached, and saw six giant forms glide so near that she could have touched them with her hand!
They did not notice her, and she breathed freer.
Perhaps, after all, their destination was not the cave.
But she started, a moment later, for the savages had halted, and a voice fell upon her ear.
It was the voice of Mossuit, the red fiend who had escaped from the cave with the Destroyer in his arms.
Yes, their destination was the cave, and Mossuit, having disposed of the White Tiger somehow, was leading his brethren to vengeance and death.
The halt occupied but a minute of time, then the red-men moved on.