Their forms became gigantic and unreal in the white darkness.

As Henry leaned forward to listen better his figure was distorted like that of a misshapen giant.
"Steer straight toward the north, Paul," he whispered.

"We must shake them off somehow or other." Silently the boat slid through the water but they heard again those signal cries, the hoots of the owl and now they were much nearer.
"They must have guessed our course," whispered Henry, "or perhaps they have heard the splash of an oar now and then.

Stop, boys, and let's see if we can hear their canoes." Their boat lay under the thick, spreading boughs of some oaks.

Paul could see the branches and twigs showing overhead through the white fog like lace work, but everything else was invisible twenty feet away.