About midnight
Never before had the silent , brooding forest witnessed a like gathering , nor its dark mysterious depths re-echoed with such unfamiliar sounds . But that camp-fire scene was merely a prelude to the tide of progress already setting , when unnamed rivers , hidden lakes , crouching valleys , lofty hills , and secret woodland depths would know those sounds , and rejoice in the knowledge . An hour later silence reigned over the camp in the wilderness , broken only by the occasional hoot of an owl , or the light steps of some little forest creature . About midnight the moon rose beyond the eastern hills , and rode high above the Isle of Vines . It cast its bright beams across the now placid water , and stole on furtive foot into the camping ground of the weary sleepers . As the river and shore thus became illuminated , a tall Indian stepped out from the darkness of the forest , and stood for a few minutes gazing upon the ghost-like tents . In one hand he carried a heavy flint-lock , and in the other a string of fine trout , while across his right shoulder hung a long bow and several arrows .