points and dark waving lines of range after range that looked like breakers,
surged up by some strange new law from an under-sea of foam; motionless, it
swept down the valleys, poured swift torrents through high gaps in the hills
and one long noiseless cataract over a lesser range--all silent, all
motionless, like a great white sea stilled in the fury of a storm. Morning
after morning, the boy had looked upon just such glory, calmly watching the
mist part, like the waters, for the land, and the day break, with one phrase,
"Let there be light," ever in his mind--for Chad knew his Bible. And, most
often, in soft splendor, trailing cloud-mist, and yellow light leaping from
crest to crest, and in the singing of birds and the shining of leaves and
dew--there was light.

But that morning there was a hush in the woods that Chad understood. On a
sudden, a light wind scurried through the trees and showered the mistdrops
down. The smoke from his fire shot through the low undergrowth, without
rising, and the starting mists seemed to clutch with long, white fingers at
the tree-tops, as though loath to leave the safe, warm earth for the upper
air. A little later, he felt some great shadow behind him, and he turned his
face to see black clouds marshalling on either flank of the heavens and
fitting their black wings together, as though the retreating forces of the
night were gathering for a last sweep against the east. A sword flashed
blindingly from the dome high above them and, after it, came one shaking peal
that might have been the command to charge, for Chad saw the black hosts start
fiercely. Afar off, the wind was coming; the trees began to sway above him,
and the level sea of mist below began to swell, and the wooded breakers seemed
to pitch angrily.

Challenging tongues ran quivering up the east, and the lake of red coals under
them began to heave fiercely in answer. On either side the lightning leaped
upward and forward, striking straight and low, sometimes, as though it were