"Listen, M'sieur!" From out of the gloom ahead of them there came a faint, oily splashing.
"Otter," whispered Jean.

"The stream is like this for many miles, and it is full of life that you can never see because of the darkness." Something in the stillness and the gloom held them silent.

The canoes slipped along like shadows, and sometimes they bent their heads to escape the low-hanging boughs.

Josephine's face shone whitely in the dusk.

She was alert and listening.