The faint musical note was another little gray bird singing the delight of his soul as he perched himself upon a twig; the light shuffling noise was the tread of a bear hunting succulent nuts; a caw-caw so distant that it was like an echo was the voice of a circling crow, and the tiny trickling noise that only the keenest ear could have heard was made by a brook a yard wide taking a terrific plunge over a precipice six inches high.

The rustling, one great blended note, universal but soft, was that of the leaves moving in harmony before the gentle wind.
The young Onondaga was sure that the forest held no alien presence.

The traces of Tandakora were hours old, and he must now be many miles away with his band, and, such being the case, it was fit time for him to choose a camp and call his friends.
It pleased Tayoga, zealous of mind, to do all the work before the others came, and, treading so lightly and delicately, that he would not have alarmed a rabbit in the bush, he gathered together dead sticks and heaped them in a little sunken place, clear of undergrowth.
Flint and steel soon lighted a fire, and then he sent forth his call, the long penetrating whine of the wolf.

The reply came from the north, and, building his fire a little higher, he awaited the result, without anxiety.
The dry wood crackled and many little flames red or yellow arose.
Tayoga heaped dead leaves against the trunk of a tree and sat down comfortably, his shoulders and back resting against the bark.

Presently he heard the first alien sound in the forest, a light tread approaching That he knew was Willet, and then he heard the second tread, even lighter than the first, and he knew that it was the footstep of Robert.
"All ready! It's like you, Tayoga," said Willet, as he entered the open space.