Little patches of mist,
harbingers of the coming obscurity, were being drawn now into the
gradual darkness. Lights twinkled out from the far-scattered
homesteads. Here and there a dog barked, some lonely bird
seeking shelter called to its mate, but of human beings there
seemed to be no one in sight save the solitary traveler.
Tavernake was in grievous straits. His clothes were caked with
mud, his hair tossed with the wind, his cheeks pale, his eyes set
with the despair of that fierce upheaval through which he had
passed. For many hours the torture which had driven him back
towards his birthplace had triumphed over his physical
exhaustion. Now came the time, however, when the latter asserted
itself. With a half-stifled moan he collapsed. Sheer fatigue
induced a brief but merciful spell of uneasy slumber. He lay
upon his back near one of the broader dikes, his arms
outstretched, his unseeing eyes turned toward the sky. The
darkness deepened and passed away again before the light of the
moon. When at last he sat up, it was a new world upon which he
looked, a strange land, moonlit in places, yet full of shadowy
somberness. He gazed wonderingly around--for the moment he had
forgotten. Then memory came, and with memory once more the stab
at his heart. He rose to his feet and went resolutely on his
way.
Almost until the dawn he walked, keeping as near as he could to
that long monotonous line of telegraph posts, yet avoiding the
road as much as possible.
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