Yes, it was actually a sound, as though someone moved in the room--moved stealthily, as though upon hands and knees, seeking a passage in the darkness.

I imagined I could distinguish breathing.

Who, what could it be?
A man; a prowling wild animal which had scented blood?
But for my dry, parched lips I would have cried out--yet even with the vain endeavor, doubt silenced me.

Who could be there--who?
Some sneaking, cowardly thief; some despoiler of the dead?
Some Indian returned through the night to take his toll of scalps, hoping to thus proclaim himself a mighty warrior?
More likely enemy than friend.

It was better that I lie and suffer than appeal to such fiend for mercy.
The slight sound shifted to the right of where I lay, no longer reminding me of the slow progress of a moving body, but rather as though someone were attempting blindly to scrape together ashes in the fireplace.