He must have loved the spot, have feared no danger, sought nothing but what was pleasant there.

He no longer concealed his gun.

The path stretched away like a dark trench, except that the moonrays, gliding ever and anon between the piles of timber, then streaked the grass with patches of light.

All slept, both darkness and light, with the same deep, soft, sad slumber.

No words can describe the calm peacefulness of the place.