A quiet gloom filled the forest and by the tree-tops he marked the going down of the sun.

Nathaniel's ears ached with their strain of listening for the rumbling roar that would tell of Casey's attack on St.James.
Suddenly he heard a crackling in the underbrush ahead of him, a sound that came not from the strain of listening for the rumbling roar and in a moment he had dodged into the concealment of the huge roots of an overturned tree, drawn pistol in hand.

Whatever object was approaching came slowly, as if hesitating at each step--a cautious, stealthy advance, it struck Nathaniel, and he cocked his weapon.

Directly in front of him, half a stone's throw away, was a dense growth of hazel and he could see the tops of the slender bushes swaying.

Twice this movement ceased and the second time there came a crashing of brush and a faint cry.