CHAPTER XXIII.
IN THE ELBOW ROCK RAPIDS.
The day following that night of Brian Kent's uneasy wakefulness was a hard day for the man and the woman in the little log house by the river.
For Brian, the morning dawned with a sense of impending disaster.

He left his room while the sky was still gray behind the eastern mountains, and the mist that veiled the brightness of the hills seemed to hide in its ghostly depths legions of shadowy spirits that from his past had assembled to haunt him.

The sombre aisles and caverns of the dimly lighted forest were peopled with shadowy memories of that life which he had hoped would never again for him awake.

And the river swept through its gray world to the crashing turmoil at Elbow Rock like a thing doomed to seek forever in its own irresistible might the destruction of its ever-living self.
As one moving in a world of dreams, he went about his morning's work.
"Old Prince" whinnied his usual greeting, but received no answer.

"Bess" met him at the barnyard gate, but he did not speak.