, and this was the rendezvous. One comfort--the old hunter
must then be of the party, too. But why should he, Mark, wait, if Carl
had two persons with him? Still, the boy had asked. It ended in his
waiting.

He began to prepare for the night. There was a knoll near by, and here
he made a camp-fire, spending the time before sunset in gathering the
wood by the slow process of climbing the trees and vines, and breaking
off dead twigs and branches; everything near the ground was wet and
sogged. He planted his four torches, ate his supper, examined his gun
and revolver, and then, as darkness fell, having nothing else to do, he
made a plot on the ground with twigs and long splinters of light-wood,
and played, one hand against the other, a swamp game of fox-and-geese.
He played standing (his fox-and-geese were two feet high), so that he
could keep a lookout for every sort of creature. There were wild-cats
and bears in the interior of South Devil, and in the Branch, alligators.
He did not fear the large creatures, however; his especial guard, as
before, was against the silent snakes. He lighted the fire and torches
early, so that whatever uncanny inhabitants there might be in the near
trees could have an opportunity of coming down and seeking
night-quarters elsewhere. He played game after game of fox-and-geese;
and this time he sang "Sweet Afton." He felt that he had exhausted the
"Troubadour" on the previous occasion. He shot five snakes, and saw (or
rather it seemed to him that he saw) five thousand others coiling and
gliding over the roots of the cypresses all around. He made a rule not
to look at them if he could help it, as long as they did not approach.
"Otherwise," he thought, "I shall lose my senses, and think the very
trees are squirming."

It was a long, long night. The knoll was dented all over with holes made
by the long splinters representing his fox-and-geese. Dizziness was
creeping over him at intervals. His voice, singing "Sweet Afton," had
become hoarse and broken, and his steps uneven, as he moved to and fro,
still playing the game dully, when at last dawn came. But, although the
flat tops of the great cypresses far above were bathed in the golden
sunshine, it was long before the radiance penetrated to the dark glades
below. The dank, watery aisles were still in gray shadow, when the
watcher heard a sound--a real sound now, not an imaginary one--and at
the same moment his glazed eyes saw a boat coming up the