"Any kind of foliage or underbrush at night.

Out here it's so broad and easy on the spirit." "The long slope of a long hill." "And the cold moon rolling moonlight down it." "And thee and me, last and most important." It was quiet that night--the straight road they followed up to the edge of the cliff knew few footsteps at any time.

Only an occasional negro cabin, silver-gray in the rock-ribbed moonlight, broke the long line of bare ground; behind lay the black edge of the woods like a dark frosting on white cake, and ahead the sharp, high horizon.

It was much colder--so cold that it settled on them and drove all the warm nights from their minds.
"The end of summer," said Eleanor softly.

"Listen to the beat of our horses' hoofs--'tump-tump-tump-a-tump.' Have you ever been feverish and had all noises divide into 'tump-tump-tump' until you could swear eternity was divisible into so many tumps?
That's the way I feel--old horses go tump-tump....