veil was creeping— the mist, tlie breath of the 

 sleeping water, the spirit of the stream. And 

 away up the creek a distorted, inarticulate 

 sound— the hoarse, guttural croak of the great 

 blue heron, the weird, uncanny cry of the night, 

 the mock, the menace of the tangled, untamed 

 swamp ! 



[146] 



