He fell. He knew he fell. For hours it seemed
to him he continued to fall in an abyss of blackness that was wholly
horrifying. It was a blackness peopled with hideous invisible shadows.
So impenetrable was the inky void that even sound had no place in it.
CHAPTER XXVI
UNDER THE VEIL
There was no moon. Only a starry sheen lit the night. A wonderful
peace had descended upon the hills. The quiet was the hush of the
still prairie night. Teeming maybe with restless life; but it was a
life invisible, and rarely audible. Nevertheless the hush was merely a
veil. A veil which concealed, but had no power to sweep away the
garnered harvest of violent human passions.
The figure of a man lay stretched upon his back on the bank of the
river. His head was carefully pillowed. A covering had been spread
over the upper body, as though to hide that which lay beneath, rather
than yield warmth and comfort on the summer night. The covering was a
coat, a woman's coat, and the owner of it sat crouching over her charge.
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