It was so black, so beautiful, so terrible, so soundless, so motionless,
so unfathomable. There was no moon. The few pale stars glimmered dimly
far above the dark arches of the trees. No bird moved among the sable
branches, or even twittered in its sleep as if disturbed by the light,
swift passing of the shadowy horsemen. No wild animal stirred in his
uneasy rest or even breathed less deeply in his hunting dreams, at the
flitting of the shadows across his hidden lair.
The mystery, the beauty, and the terror went beyond the black border of
the forest. Out in the open and over the clearing, the mists from the
swamp mingling with the darkness gave everything a look of fantastic
unreality yet wilder than it had worn earlier in the night. Dense
earth-clouds were thus massed about the base of Anvil Rock. Its
blackened peak loomed through the clouds,--a strange, wild sight,
apparently belonging neither to earth or to heaven. But far beyond and
above was a stranger, wilder sight still; the strangest and wildest of
all; one of the strangest and wildest, surely, that human eyes ever
rested upon.
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