But the most part push on, tearing the air with their clamor.
Down ahead of them in the long, thicket-darkened way there is--singularly enough--a faint, dancing light.

It must be very near the old house; it is.

It has stopped now.

It is a lantern, and is under a well-known sapling which has grown up on the wayside since the canal was filled.

Now it swings mysteriously to and fro.