Henry, too, was wakeful, and Paul at last
suggested that they walk in the city. Henry accepted, and with a word to
Tom Ross they sprang ashore.
New Orleans was even more interesting to them by night than by day, as it
had now a peculiarly uncanny look added to its other qualities. The night
was close, heavy, and warm, and the brown current of the river showed but
dismally through it. Lights were still moving on the Mississippi, but the
boats that bore them were invisible. From the side of the river pleasant
odors came to their nostrils, the clean, sweet scents of vast, undefiled
woods and prairies, the flavor of a wind blowing over wild flowers, but
from the side of the city the smells were as variegated and repellent as
ever.
Nevertheless the two youths turned into the city, lit faintly by the
flaring oil lanterns, and walked along through one street and another
seeing what they could see. The night life was active and much of it was
sodden. Oaths played a great part in the talk they heard and intoxication
was a prevalent note. Sounds of strife, either without or within, arose
now and then, but Henry and Paul, wishing to keep clear of all trouble,
never stayed to see the result. They more than suspected that knives shone
too often in these orgies.
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