"I took to the stream again and the mountains once more looked as if
they were closing in on the river. At times I would sink into quiet
pools, requiring incessant paddling to push through and then emerge into
rapids that would necessitate the utmost labor to keep from being dashed
on the rocks. I ran all that day without meeting any one. About ten
o'clock at night, I noticed a light down the stream and sounded my
bugle. I was tired and chilly and glad to hear a hail from the
direction of the light. I landed at a sort of ferry and found a man and
woman awaiting me with a lantern. They escorted me to a little cabin and
the woman bustled about, building a fire out of weeds and other stuff,
wood being very scarce. Their patois was of the mountains and I could
not understand their speech nor they mine. By signs, however, we
understood each other very well and I intimated to them that I would
stretch out before the fire all night. But they refused to allow me to
lie on the floor. I understood them to mean for me to take the bed
as the man was going away somewhere. This I did and was soon sound
asleep. At one o'clock in the morning, I was awakened with an impression
that some one was in the room near me. I looked up and by the dim rush
light saw a tall figure standing by the bedside, upright and stiff,
a three cornered hat on his head, a carbine strapped across his back and
a sword by his side.
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