The scene opens in the Far West. In the forest the evening’s gloom already was settling, though here and there, through some narrow vista, a rich ray of sunlight poured its golden flood far into the shadowy depths. The place was lonely and drear, yet wild and grand. Approaching civilization had driven out the red-man, while his place had not, as yet, been filled by the spreading white. Deep silence reigned, disturbed only by the myriad sounds of animal and insect life, called forth by the rare beauties of the evening. The sights and sounds of civilization were not there; and yet, we should, perhaps, make a single exception. Stealing cautiously along, with a tread as light as that of a shade…
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