But those in the Gangrene wards seemed to be denied even this scanty blessing.
Apparently they never slept, for their shrieks never ceased.

A multitude of whip-poor-wills in the woods around us began their usual dismal cry, which had never seemed so unearthly and full of dreadful presages as now.
It was, now quite dark, and we stole noiselessly down to the Creek and reconnoitered.

We listened.

The guard was not pacing his beat, as we could not hear his footsteps.

A large, ill-shapen lump against the trunk of one of the trees on the bank showed that he was leaning there resting himself.