He descended, beyond the ridge, into the fact of
evening accomplished. At the base of the range he
crossed a softly-swelling expanse of close-cropped
grass, skirted a bog and troop of naked-seeming
birches, and came in view of the maple grove toward
which he was bound.

The maple trees towered compact and majestic
over the level sod, holding their massed foliage
black against the green sky. Low in the right the
new moon hung like a gold fillet above the odorous,
crepuscular earth; and, at the base of the trees, the
fires were like bubbling, crimson sealing wax poured
into the deeper, indigo gloom.

As Gordon advanced he saw a number of vehicles,
from which the horses had been taken and tied to an
improvised railing. Figures moved darkly against
the flames; beyond familiar features flickered like
partial, painted masks on the night. In the grove
the sap, stirred in the great iron kettles, kept up a
constant, choking minor; the smooth trunks of the
trees swept up from the unsteady radiance into the
obscurity of invisible branches looped with silver
strings of stars.

Blurred forms moved everywhere. He searched
for Meta Beggs. She was not by the kettles of sap;
beyond the trees, by covered baskets of provisions
lanterns made a saffron pool of light, but she was not
there. He felt in his pocket the cool, sinuous neck-

[[244]]

p243 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p244w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p245

v?