midnight
At intervals , too , miles away from the clearings , could be distinguished the glimmer of the hunters ' camp-fires , where the hardy men had lain down wrapped in their blankets , and to sleep the sleep of health . Still further away , by the side of some calmly flowing river or creek , were the ragged tepees of the wild Indians . Mountain , forest and stream made up the landscape , that was illuminated by the moon on the night when Fred Linden and Terry Clark lay down in slumber by the fire in the cavern , and Deerfoot the Shawanoe took upon himself the duty of acting as a sentinel over them . It was not yet midnight when the figure of a crouching Indian emerged like a shadow from the little gully which marked the course of the tiny stream in front of the camp . Just at the point where he appeared , a few rays of the moonlight found their way among the limbs , and added impressiveness to his appearance . A glance would have told that he had approached at the most stealthy gait of which he was capable , and was still using all the skill at his command . Finding himself within the faint light of the moon , he straightened up , like one who is not certain of his surroundings and is using his eyes and ears to their utmost .