On the earth's floor, unbroken by tree or elevation, there was
not a shadow. It lay silver frosted in the foreground, darkening as it
receded. In the arch above no cloud filmed the clearness, the moon,
huge and mottled, dominating the sky. The silence was penetrating; not
a breath or sound disturbed it. It was the night of the primitive
world, which stirred the savage to a sense of the infinite and made
him, from shell or clay or stone, carve out a God.
Without speaking they walked forward to a jutting point and looked down
on the river. The current sparkled like a dancer's veil spread on the
grass. They could not hear its murmur or see the shifting disturbance
of its shallows, only received the larger impression of the flat,
gleaming tide split by the black shapes of islands. David pointed to
the two sparks of the camp fires.
"See, they're looking after us as if they were alive and knew they
mustn't lose sight of us."
"They look quite red in the moonlight," she answered, interested.
"As if they belonged to man and a drop of human blood had colored them."
"What a queer idea.
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