A VOYAGE TO HEARTS ISLAND. 135 



ing flood of yellow light. Over the rest of the 

 sky night had settled. Bird voices were hushed, 

 but. from the river banks, as far as the ear could 

 hear, the song of frogs rose and fell in irregular 

 rhythm. The air was chilly, and a thin layer of 

 white mist hurried over the surface of the water. 

 Southward, up the river between Fairhaven Hill 

 and the pine woods, the water gleamed with 

 silvery whiteness, reflecting the sky. Its sur- 

 face narrowed in the distance between looming, 

 wooded headlands, and was finally swallowed up 

 in the shadow of great trees whose tops made a 

 serrated border to the brightening sky. At last 

 the moon's rim showed through the trees on 

 Fairhaven Hill, and the high pines close by us 

 on the western shore were bathed in uncertain 

 light. From their tops the mysterious voice 

 still questioned us at intervals. 



This pine grove was our chosen camping 

 ground, and the light of the moon enabled us to 

 select a landing place and to draw our canoes 

 ashore. Soon the two boats were resting upon 

 hollows in the pine needles, ready to serve as 

 our cocoons when we felt the need of sleep ; a 

 bright fire was blazing near the edge of the 

 water at a point where it offered no menace to 

 the safety of the grove, and we were resting our 

 weary muscles and busying our several senses 

 with the moon, cold chicken and marmalade, 



