By-and-by the fire burned low again and the light grew dim. Though the youth might have continued the perusal much longer, he finally ceased and put the book away for the night. Then, folding his arms, he looked into the smoldering embers before him. Every one knows how such a scene feeds the fancy and how imagination will run riot, while sitting alone late at night, with the wind moaning outside, while he watches the curious, grotesque, and endless procession of figures which take shape and action before him. No one but Deerfoot himself could tell what thoughts took shape in his brain, but they must have been of a melancholy, serious nature, for he drew a deep sigh, muttered a few words in prayer, and then deliberately lay down in the middle of the floor. He lay on his side, with his arm doubled under his head for a pillow, but had nothing but the hard planking beneath and nothing except his own clothing above.