missed the sound of his snoring, and also noticed that the flap of the
tent door was down. This was the unpardonable sin. I crawled out in the
darkness to hook it back securely, and it was then for the first time I
realized positively that the Swede was not there. He had gone.

I dashed out in a mad run, seized by a dreadful agitation, and the
moment I was out I plunged into a sort of torrent of humming that
surrounded me completely and came out of every quarter of the heavens at
once. It was that same familiar humming--gone mad! A swarm of great
invisible bees might have been about me in the air. The sound seemed to
thicken the very atmosphere, and I felt that my lungs worked with
difficulty.

But my friend was in danger, and I could not hesitate.

The dawn was just about to break, and a faint whitish light spread
upwards over the clouds from a thin strip of clear horizon. No wind
stirred. I could just make out the bushes and river beyond, and the pale
sandy patches. In my excitement I ran frantically to and fro about the
island, calling him by name, shouting at the top of my voice the first
words that came into my head. But the willows smothered my voice, and
the humming muffled it, so that the sound only traveled a few feet round
me. I plunged among the bushes, tripping headlong, tumbling over roots,
and scraping my face as I tore this way and that among the preventing
branches.

Then, quite unexpectedly, I came out upon the island's point and saw a
dark figure outlined between the water and the sky. It was the Swede.
And already he had one foot in the river! A moment more and he would
have taken the plunge.