I don't think you'll get any more."
Bye and bye the rain slackened a little. Some one began a line of a song,
but it did not catch. Nobody joined in, and the singer stopped. The
atmosphere was not favorable to any kind of music. The hours passed
slowly, but it was nearly midnight when the rain ceased, and a timid moon
came out to cast a few pale rays over a soaked and dripping forest. Most
of the men were now asleep under their covers, but not one of the five
slumbered, nor did Adam Colfax and a dozen others.
"Thank God, it's stopped at last!" said Adam Colfax devoutly--he was a
religious man, and his gratitude was not merely oral. "The clouds are
clearing away and I think we can soon see where we are."
"Yes, it will be much lighter soon," said Henry Ware, "but in the
meantime we are about to receive a visitor. Look!"
He pointed down the bayou toward the river. A light canoe was emerging
from the mists and shadows. It contained a single occupant, and came
straight on up the narrow channel.
The man who sat in the canoe was tall and thin and wrapped in a dripping
black robe. His head was bare and his gray hair fell in long, straight
locks. The moonlight fell directly upon his thin, ascetic face, and
something in the eyes that Adam Colfax saw, or thought he saw, sent a
thrill through him.
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