Rank poison vines writhed everywhere, and crept like vipers
beyond the deadly borders of the great Cypress Swamp. Through such dark
and tangled density as this the smoky torches, burning dimly around the
camp, could cast their light but a little way. And thus it was by
hearing and not by seeing, that they came at last upon the spot almost
by accident. They had scarcely got hurriedly down from their horses, and
hastily tied them to a swinging bough when the scene burst upon them--a
wild vision revealed by the dim flickering torchlight.
[Illustration: "A dark, confused ... writhing mass of humanity."]
There was a long, low shed of vast extent. It was covered with rough
boards, and upheld by tree-trunks which still bore the bark. There was
no floor other than the bare earth, and there were no seats other than
unhewn logs. Here, under the deep shadows of this great shed, all darkly
shut in by the black wilderness and dimly lit by a wide circle of
smoking, flaring torches, there surged a dark, confused, convulsed,
roaring, writhing mass of humanity. And there were many hundreds in that
shadowy multitude--swaying, struggling, groaning, laughing, weeping,
shouting, praying, dancing, leaping, and falling.
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