It was that hour when, with clear skies, the gray northern dawn would have been breaking faintly over the eastern forests.

Kent found the darkness more fog-like; about him was a grayer, ghostlier sort of gloom.

But he could not see the water under his feet.

Nor could he see the rail of the scow, or the river.

From the stern, ten feet from the cabin door, the cabin itself was swallowed up and invisible.
With the steady, swinging motion of the riverman he began bailing.