ack over my shoulder, just when I emerged from the bush into
the open fields. And there I became aware of a new element again.
A quiet and yet very distinct commotion arose from the south. These
cloth-clouds lifted, and a nearly impalpable change crept over the
whole of the sky. A few minutes later it crystallised into a distinct
impression. A dark grey, faintly luminous, inverted bowl stood overhead.
Not a star was to be seen above, nor yet the moon. But all around the
horizon there was a nearly clear ring, suffused with the light of the
moon. There, where the sky is most apt to be dark and hazy, stars peeped
out--singly and dimly only--I did not recognize any constellation.

And then the grey bowl seemed to contract into patches. Again the
change seemed to proceed from the south. The clouds seemed to lift still
higher, and to shrink into small, light, feathery cirrus clouds, silvery
on the dark blue sky--resembling white pencil shadings. The light of the
moon asserted itself anew. And this metamorphosis also spread upward,
till the moon herself looked out again, and it went on spreading
northward till it covered the whole of the sky.

This last change came just before I had to turn west again for a mile or
so in order to hit a trail into town. I did not mean to go on straight
ahead and to cut across those radiating road lines of which I have
spoken in a former paper. I knew that my wife would be sitting up and
waiting till midnight or two o'clock, and I wanted to make it. So I
avoided all risks and gave my attention to the road for a while. I had
to drive through a ditch and through a fence beyond, and to cross a
field in order to strike that road which led from the south through the
park into town. A certain farmstead was my landmark. Beyond it I had to
watch out sharply if I wanted to find the exact spot where according to
my informant the wire of the fence had been taken down. I found it.

To cross the field proved to be the hardest task the horses had had so
far during the night. The trail had been cut in deep through knee-high
drifts, and it was filled with firmly packed, freshly blown-in snow.
That makes a particularly bad road for fast driving. I simply had to
take my time and to give all my attention to the guiding of the horses.
And here I was also to become aware once more of the fact that my horses
had not yet forgotten their panic in that river drift of two hours ago.
There was a strawstack in the centre