Although we are not many yards from them we are safest where we are, motionless and still." Black Rifle also lay down and put his ear to the earth.
"I hear very well myself, although not as well as you, Tayoga," he whispered, "and I want to notice what they're doing as far as I can.
I make out the sound of a lot of footsteps, but I can't tell what they mean." "They are sending groups in different directions, Black Rifle, looking for a way through the forest rather than for us.

They are still uncertain where they are.

Five or six men are going southward, about as many have turned toward the west, and two warriors and a Frenchman are coming toward us, the rest stay where they are." "It's the three coming in our direction who are bothering me." "But remember, Black Rifle, that we are hidden in the deep fog as a fish is hidden in the water, and it will be almost as hard to find us.
They must step nearly upon us before they could see us." Black Rifle, in his eventful life upon the border, had passed through many a crisis, but never any that tested his nerves more thoroughly than the one he now faced.

He too heard the steps of the three warriors coming in their direction, cautiously feeling a way through the great bank of mist.

It was true that they could pass near without seeing, but chance might bring them straight to the little group.