Cautiously he felt around him. Sticks and bits of bark littered the floor. Rough hewn logs shut him in on one side, but on the other as far as he could reach was open space. Feeling above he found that there was not room to sit upright, and he thanked his unknown friend for that last timely warning.
The silence grew oppressive. It was broken by a light thump on the roof, followed by the rasp of swift little claws. “Squirrels,” thought Walter, after the first startled jump. Gradually he became aware of a feeling that he was not the only tenant of the cabin. Once he heard something that sounded very like a long drawn sigh. He held his breath and listened, but there was not another sound. What were those tales he had heard of the cabin being haunted? He tried to recall them. How far from the camp was he? Would they come for him in the morning or would he have to find his way in alone?
In spite of his strange surroundings and lively imagination Walter found difficulty in keeping awake. Outraged nature was asserting herself. There had been little sleep for more than twenty-four hours, and now even the uncertainty of his position could keep him awake no longer. In fact he had not even removed the bandage from his eyes when he fell sound asleep.
He was awakened by having this suddenly snatched off. For a few minutes he blinked stupidly while a mighty shout from the entire wigwam greeted him:
“Oh, warrior, tried and true,
We hereby welcome you!
We like your nerve!
We like your sand!
A place you’ve won
Within our band.