The water where he
came to rest was not more than a foot deep, but he remained in
the canoe, half reclining and wrapping closely around himself and
his rifle a beautiful blanket woven of the tightest fiber.
His position, with his head resting on the edge of the canoe and
his shoulder pressed against the side, was full of comfort to
him, and he awaited calmly whatever might come. Here and there
were little spaces among the leaves overhead, and through them he
saw a moon, now almost hidden by thick and rolling vapors, and a
sky that had grown dark and somber. The last timid star had
ceased to twinkle, and the rising wind was wet and cold. He was
glad of the blanket, and, skilled forest runner that he was, he
never traveled without it. Henry remained perfectly still. The
light canoe did not move beneath his weight the fraction of an
inch. His upturned eyes saw the little cubes of sky that showed
through the leaves grow darker and darker. The bushes about him
were now bending before the wind, which blew steadily from the
south, and presently drops of rain began to fall lightly on the
water.
The boy, alone in the midst of all that vast wilderness,
surrounded by danger in its most cruel forms, and with a black
midnight sky above him, felt neither fear nor awe.
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