The round moon crept slowly through the black sky, until its soft, silvery beams rested, brighter than daylight had been in that gorge, in glowing radiance along the surface of the smooth, gleaming wall opposite, yet merely succeeded in rendering more weird and uncanny the sombre desolation.

The night wind arose, causing the shadows of clinging pines to sway back and forth like spectral figures, while a solemn silence, awesome in its intensity, brooded over all, broken only by the noise of tumbling water, with occasional rasping of boughs against the face of the cliff.

The fire died away into a few red embers, occasionally fanned into uncertain flame by breaths of air sucked up the gorge.

By the time my guard ended I was so thoroughly unstrung that each flitting glimpse of deeper shadow tempted me to fire.
It was at midnight, or as close to that hour as I was capable of judging, when I aroused De Noyan and crawled into his place on the bed of boughs.

I lay there watching him a brief space, as he walked over to the stream and plunged his face into the cool water.