He was silent again, and now the minutes were leaden-footed, so slow, in truth, that it seemed an hour would never pass and the two hours Tayoga had predicted were an eternity.

The afterglow disappeared and the darkness was deep in the defile.

The trees above were fused into a black mass, and then, after an infinity of waiting, a faint note, sinister and full of menace, came out of the wilderness.

Tayoga and Robert glanced at each other.
"It is as you predicted," said Robert.
"It is the howl of the great timber wolf from the far north who has made himself the leader of the band," said the Onondaga.

"When he howls again he will be much nearer." Robert waited for an almost breathless minute or two, and then came the malignant note, much nearer, as Tayoga had predicted, and directly after came other howls, faint but equally sinister.
"The great leader gives tongue a second time," said Tayoga, "and his pack imitate him, but their voices are not so loud, because their lungs are not so strong.