392 WILD SPOBTS IN THE SOUTH. 



against the night sky in bright relief or was wrapped in 

 darkness as the flame or the smoke successively lighted 

 or enveloped it. The girl cowered away from the flames 

 as they came up the trap door, to the fullest extent of 

 the tower. The smoke became denser and the stone 

 beneath her warm. She wrapped a blanket around her 

 and kept her face down to the floor. The fresh air that 

 stole through the broken sash struggled with the smoke 

 that curled around her. Her ear caught the whoop of the 

 Indians exulting in their carnival, and an occasional shot 

 that was fired at the lantern, more in triumph than with 

 the intent to slay. She heard the surf, and the peevish 

 cries of the sea birds that circled around the unusual 

 light. Her brain reeled with the smoke, and she became 

 insensible. 



When she recovered her senses the morning had bro- 

 ken and the world with its thousand happy tenants had 

 awakened to the joys of another day. The slight 

 wooden staircase in the tower had burned out, leaving 

 the column of stone and mortar with its iron ribbed 

 lantern as strong as before. The girl looked down the 

 column and found herself cut off from the earth. She 

 looked out on the strand and there was no living being 

 in sight. The lamp had gone out in the smoke. She 

 looked out for her late enemies, but could see none. The 

 world below her was beautiful to see, replete with rolling 

 breakers, shells and sands, flowering palmettoes, and the 

 long lagoon, with its little island, dreaming a hundred 

 yards from shore. 



