They appealed to him as a direct message of guidance.
The night was already dark, but stars were gleaming brilliantly overhead, and the trail remained easily traceable.

It became terribly lonely on that wilderness stretching away for unknown leagues in every direction, yet Hampton scarcely noted this, so watchful was he lest he miss the trail.

To his judgment, Murphy would not be likely to ride during the night until after he had crossed the Fourche.

There was no reason to suspect that there were any hostile Indians south of that stream, and probably therefore the old scout would endeavor to conserve his own strength and that of his horses, for the more perilous travel beyond.

Hampton hastened on, his eyes peering anxiously ahead into the steadily increasing gloom.
About midnight, the trail becoming obscure, the rider made camp, confident he must have already gained heavily on the man he pursued.
He lariated his horses, and flinging himself down on some soft turf, almost immediately dropped asleep.