78 WAKE-ROBIN 



light at the word. The night was clear, moonless, 

 and still. Nearing the middle of the lake, a breeze 

 from the west was barely perceptible, and noiselessly 

 we glided before it. The guide handled his oar 

 with great dexterity; without lifting it from the 

 water or breaking the surface, he imparted the 

 steady, uniform motion desired. How silent it 

 was! The ear seemed the only sense, and to hold 

 dominion over lake and forest. Occasionally a lily- 

 pad would brush along the bottom, and stooping 

 low I could hear a faint murmuring of the water 

 under the bow : else all was still. Then, almost as 

 by magic, we were encompassed by a huge black 

 ring. The surface of the lake, when we had reached 

 the centre, was slightly luminous from the starlight, 

 and the dark, even forest-line that surrounded us, 

 doubled by reflection in the water, presented a 

 broad, unbroken belt of utter blackness. The effect 

 was quite startling, like some huge conjurer's trick. 

 It seemed as if we had crossed the boundary-line 

 between the real and the imaginary, and this was 

 indeed the land of shadows and of spectres. What 

 magic oar was that the guide wielded that it could 

 transport me to such a realm! Indeed, had I not 

 committed some fatal mistake and left that trusty 

 servant behind, and had not some wizard of the 

 night stepped into his place? A slight splashing 

 in-shore broke the spell and caused me to turn ner- 

 vously to the oarsman: "Musquash," said he, and 

 kept straight on. 



Nearing the extreme end of the pond, the boat 



