ghostly in the shadows.

Alvarez saw his sentinels at either side of the camp, to right and left,
walking back and forth, and he knew also that they would watch well. Time
passed. The night darkened and then a wan moon came out, casting a
ghostly, gray shadow over the measureless black forest. The great stars,
pale and cold, danced in a dusky blue. Faint moans came out of the depths
of the wilderness, as a stray wind wandered here and there among the
leaves. Francisco Alvarez, resolute and self contained though he was,
could not sleep. He had taken a bold step in holding the messenger of
peace, and, although one might do much a thousand wilderness miles from
the seat of his authority, he was nevertheless anxious to have the full
support of Bernardo Galvez, the Spanish governor of Louisiana.

Royalist to the marrow, he wished the colonists to be defeated by their
mother country, and he wished, moreover, that Spain might make secure a
title to all the immense regions in the valley. If he could skillfully
commit Spain to a quarrel with the settlers much might be done for the
cause in which his heart was enlisted. He foresaw the truth of Paul's
warning that in a little while nothing could uproot the settlers in
Kentucky. A blow at them, if it would destroy, must fall quickly, and he
meant that the blow should be given.

His anxiety weighed heavily upon him and the wilderness at night grew more
uncanny. Sleep refused to come. The coals sank lower. One by one they
gleamed with the last fitful sparks of dying fire and then went out. The
two sentinels, one to the right and one to the left, had sat down now upon
fallen logs, but Alvarez knew that they were still watching with
care--they would not dare to do otherwise. All the rest but Alvarez slept.