After a while it ceased, and the weary
combatants lay on their arms in the thickets.
The clouds began to float off to the eastward. By and by all went down
under the horizon, and the sky sprang out, a solid dome of calm,
untroubled blue, in which the stars in myriads twinkled and shone. A
moon of unusual splendor bathed the wet forest in a silver dew.
Henry sat in the moonlight, watching beside Paul, who dozed or fell into
a stupor. The moonlight passed, the darkest hours came and then up shot
the dawn, bathing a green world in the mingled glory of red and gold.
Henry raised Paul again, and started with him toward the thickets, where
he knew the little white army lay.
* * * * *
John Ware had borne himself that night like a man, else he would not
have been in the place that he held. But his heart had followed his son,
when he turned back toward the savage army, and, despite the reassuring
words of Ross, he already mourned him as one dead. Yet he was faithful
to his greater duty, remembering the little force that he led and the
women and children back there, of whom they were the chief and almost
the sole defenders.
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