a mutter which was not that of cannon.
Then came rain and a rushing wind and the surface of the river was
troubled grievously. It rose up in waves like those of a lake, and
Harry's boat rocked and tumbled so badly that in a few minutes it was
half-full of water.

Fearing he might sink, carrying with him his great message, he pulled
again, but fiercely now, for the southern bank and the shelter of the
bushes, which, fortunately for him, grew here in the water's edge.
He shoved his boat with all his might among them, as their tops snapped
and crackled in the hurricane. But he knew he was safe there, and he
continued to push until it reached the edge of the land.

The river would be swollen by another storm, but for the present it did
not bother him greatly. He was more immediately concerned with his wish
to get back to Lee as soon as possible, and he was grateful for that
dense clump of bushes, growing in the very water's edge, because the wind
was blowing like a hurricane and the waves were chasing one another on
the Potomac, like the billows on a lake. He was a fair oarsman, but it
would have taken greater skill than his to have kept his boat afloat in
the tempestuous river.

The bushes formed an absolute protection. His boat swayed with them,
which saved it from being damaged, and the overhanging lee of the cliff
kept most of the rain from him. He also wrapped about his body the pair
of blankets that he always carried, and he sat there not only in safety,
but with a certain physical pleasure.

Once more amid surroundings with the like of which Henry Ware had been so
familiar, the soul of his great ancestor seemed to have descended upon
him. Most young officers, no matter how brave or how skilled in war,
would have been awed and alarmed. He had no comrades at his elbow.
There was no light, no friendly sound to encourage him, he was as truly
alone, so far as his present situation was concerned, as any pioneer had
ever been in the heart of the wilderness. But for him there was pleasure
at that moment in being alone. He did not quiver when the thunder rolled
and crashed above his head, and the lightning blazed in one Titanic
sword slash after another across the surface of the river. Rather, the
wilderness and majesty of the scene appealed to him. Leaning well back
in his boat with his blankets closely wrapped about him, he watched it,
and his soul rose with the storm.

Harry knew from its sudden violence