He was eager to be off on his expedition, but he knew how much depended on waiting, and he waited.

One hour, two hours, three hours, four hours, still and dark, passed in the forest before he roused himself from his covert.

Then, warm, strong, and tempered like steel for his purpose, he put on his snowshoes, and advanced toward the point from which the column of smoke had risen.
He had never been more cautious and wary than he was now.

He was a formidable figure in the darkness, crouched forward, and moving like some spirit of the wilderness, half walking, half gliding.
Although the night had come out rather clear, with many cold stars twinkling in the blue, the line of smoke was no longer visible.

But Henry did not expect it to be, nor did he need it.