the animate expression of the
joy and beauty of the lake side in spring, was the boast of the Silent
City.

* * * * *

Late that same night, Tessibel lay asleep in the front room of the
shanty. Four miles to the south, Ithaca, too, slept,--the wholesome
sleep of a small country town, while Cayuga Lake gleamed and glistened
in the moonlight, as if fairies were tumbling it with powdered fingers.
Above both town and span of water, Cornell University loomed darkly on
the hill, the natural skyline sharply cut by its towers and spires.

An unusual sound awakened her. She lifted her lids and glanced about
drowsily, then propped herself on one elbow. Her sleep-laden eyes fell
upon the white light slanting across the rough shanty floor. Suddenly,
like a dark ghost, a shadow darted into it--the shadow of a human head.

At the first glimpse at it, Tessibel looked cautiously toward the
window, and there, as in a frame, was a face--a man's face. Tess dropped
on her pillow. For possibly two minutes, she lay quietly waiting, while
the shadow moved curiously to and fro on the floor. Twice the head
disappeared, and as suddenly returned, poised a moment, then, like an
image moving across a screen, was gone. Instantly Tess sat straight up
in bed. Perhaps one of the squatters needed her. She crept to the floor,
yawning, tiptoed to the door, and unbarred it. Without pausing to cover
her feet, she stepped outside, the fresh scent of May blossoms sweeping
sweet to her nostrils. The warm night-wind, full of elusive odors,
brushed her face like thready cobwebs, that broke at her touch, only to
caress her anew.

Midnight held no fear for Tessibel, for she loved every living creature,
those traveling by day being no dearer than those flying by night. She
felt no deeper thrills for the bright-winged birds singing in the sun
than for yonder owl who screeched at her, now, from the weeping willow
tree.

After picking her way to the front of the shanty, she made a tour of the
house and encircled the mud cellar, calling softly the while. No one
appeared; no voice, either of friend or stranger, answered the
persuasive importunity of Tessibel. But, after she was again in the
doorway, she heard north of the shanty the crackling of twigs as if some
stealthy animal were crawling over them. If there were an intruder, he'd
gone, and the girl, satisfied, went back into the house and once more
lay down to sleep.

When sh