From this infliction of silence there was no relief. Everything was
affected; gloom was the predominant note. Joy appeared to have passed
away as a factor of life, and this creative impulse had nothing to take
its place. That giant spot in high air was a plague of evil influence.
It seemed like a new misanthropic belief which had fallen on human
beings, carrying with it the negation of all hope.

After a few days, men began to grow desperate; their very words as well
as their senses seemed to be in chains. Edgar Caswall again tortured his
brain to find any antidote or palliative of this greater evil than
before. He would gladly have destroyed the kite, or caused its flying to
cease; but the instant it was pulled down, the birds rose up in even
greater numbers; all those who depended in any way on agriculture sent
pitiful protests to Castra Regis.

It was strange indeed what influence that weird kite seemed to exercise.
Even human beings were affected by it, as if both it and they were
realities. As for the people at Mercy Farm, it was like a taste of
actual death. Lilla felt it most. If she had been indeed a real dove,
with a real kite hanging over her in the air, she could not have been
more frightened or more affected by the terror this created.

Of course, some of those already drawn into the vortex noticed the effect
on individuals. Those who were interested took care to compare their
information. Strangely enough, as it seemed to the others, the person
who took the ghastly silence least to heart was the negro. By nature he
was not sensitive to, or afflicted by, nerves. This alone would not have
produced the seeming indifference, so they set their minds to discover
the real cause. Adam came quickly to the conclusion that there was for
him some compensation that the others did not share; and he soon believed